#please write your will now anon. i do not wish for you to pass on without a final will and testament

[crossbackpoke-check]

philadelphia where love goes to…..be reborn?? crazy stuff happening here!!

i-

yeah you know what, that narrative makes sense, continue 🤝 philly

[lollixp0p]

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!! 

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

© lollixp0p 2024 | please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works

[evylss]

I heard from a little birdy that you make hsr smut soooo~ ANAXA SMUT PLEASE so basically we have been bothering him all day saying how we want to cum on his dick so as punishment he ties us to the bed and use a vibrator to our pussy, overstimulating us and he is talking dirty like GOOD LAWD.

a/n: OMG FIRST ASK!! 🩵AND HELLO?? ANON I LOOOOVE HOW U THINK I SAT DOWN SO FAST TO WRITE THIS (⁠>⁠0⁠<⁠；⁠) i might get a bit carried away with this..

images and borders from pinterest, credits to the owners (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

cw: nsfw, meannn/sadist anaxa, him thinking he's better than u tbh, brat and brat tamer, fingering, orgasm denial (once), overstimulation, vibrator, it's messyyy, bondage, degradation and praise, clit slapping, lowk manhandling.. lmk if i missed anything!!

Anaxa was a relatively patient man, with you at least. He appreciates silence, and despises being interrupted or disturbed. What he wasn't though, was anybody's slave, and he'll do as he pleased.

So when you've been nagging him all day, whining about how badly you want him, how badly you need to cum on his cock-- he can't help but find himself irritated as you mindlessly beg with no concern for how you're disrupting his focus, just like the dumb thing he knows you are.

"Come on! I'll be quick- just wanna cum- then I'll leave you alone!" You whine up at him from where you're seated on the floor, right between his legs as he sits at his table, resting your cheek on his thigh and giving him the best doll eyes you could. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sliding a hand into your hair, he grips it at the roots. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to be a warning. He lifts your head off his thigh, offering you a questioning look with one slightly raised brow.

Anaxa's eyes narrow at you as his hand tracing from your nape and down your jaw, till he was holding your chin delicately between his fingers.

"How many times have I told you that I'm busy? All this nagging is enough, but also proposing to just take what you need and leave..? All high and mighty, are we?"

And you did.

His voice was low, soft, but incredibly dangerous- laced with a threat. Daring you to challenge him.

That's how you find yourself in your current situation-

Clothes peeled off you expertly as he takes you to the bedroom, panties unknowingly stuffed into his pocket. Rope being tossed into the bed, being pushed down roughly into the mattress, a hand against your lower back, firmly pinning you down.

God, you shouldn't have pushed him this far.

Or maybe that's exactly what you wanted.

You feel him grab your wrist, then your calve, folding your leg up till your ankle meets your wrist. With no hesitation, he ties them together. He watches as you start to squirm in protest, but all you're met with is a sharp "Hold still."- and you don't dare disobey him this time. He ties up the other side, tugging on the ropes as if to test the hold, then letting out a satasfied hum as you hear him start to walk away from you.

Where was he going? Surely he wouldn't just leave you there.. right?

But now you almost wish he did.

A moment passes. Another.

You hear him come back behind you, and he places something down on the bed next to him. Silence.

"A-anax-" And he shuts you up promptly.

"Quiet." He huffs, landing a sharp swat! against your achy clit, making you yelp out and jolt, which only subjected you to a few more of the mean slaps, smearing the wetness of your puffy folds onto his fingers. Your thighs eager to close shut as you struggled against the rope, hoping to escape from the sharp and almost overwhelming pleasure.

'Tch. You're still misbehaving, slut?" He scoffs. Pushing two of his fingers in at once, he relishes in the way you squeal at the sudden stretch. He gives you no time, incessantly hooking his fingers meanly into that familiar spongy spot with frightening precision, uncaring of the way your thighs tremble and press against the ropes. He presses his thumb right into your clit, rubbing tight and harsh little circles around the throbbing nub, finally showing it some attention.

"Please- that's t'much..!" You protest, trying your best to lift your head off the pillow to look back at him, but he isn't even looking at you. His eyes are fixed between your legs, his gaze intense, watching as he slowly rubs up and down your slit, neglecting your clit entirely before coming to circle around your weeping hole, not missing the way your breath hitches and you gasp.

"Too much? You were just begging for more but now it's too much? You don't really want me to stop though do you? I can feel you dripping onto my fingers. Filthy girl." He practically scolds you, pressing his fingers against your fluttering entrance, just enough for you to feel the pressure, but not enough for them to slip in, making you whine and writhe defiantly.

You can feel your orgasm building all too quickly as he expertly works his fingers inside you the way he's come to know, your whines and moans turning into whimpers and intelligible pleas for release.

"Why'd you d-do that?!" You cry out, and if you weren't tied up, he's sure you'd be kicking your feet against the bed like a child having a tantrum- maybe even landing a few hits on him.

"'m so close..!" You warn, but you don't need to. He knows your body well enough, maybe even better than you, and easily identifies the squeezing and clamping of your drooling pussy around his fingers. He doesn't reply to you, giving you the chance to enjoy the feeling before abruptly removing his fingers from your cunt, immediately landing a smack on your pulsing clit for good measure. Making sure you really felt the loss of your climax.

He ignores your whining and you hear him take ahold of something, you're about to look back until you hear an all too familiar buzzing.

"Please make cum..! Been waiting for so long- and I promise I'll be good!" You're spouting out whatever comes to mind, whatever you can say to convince him, and he just huffs out a dry chuckle at you, knowing that promise won't last long at all.

"Do you want to cum? Say please." He demands so meanly and to his pleasure, you don't even have it in you to resist.

"If you say so," and his nudging the jittery head of the vibrator right up against your clit.

The vibrator hums to life the second it meets your clit, and your entire body jolts, arching into the sensation with a gasp. Your wrists strain against the ropes as your thighs try to clamp shut out of instinct, but the way he has you bound denies you any kind of escape. You’re completely exposed, and the worst part is—

You know that’s exactly how he wants you.

"That's it. Cry for me," He murmurs, almost lovingly. Almost. But there’s nothing gentle about the way he rolls the toy in slow, torturous circles, keeping it just off center from where you really need it. You sob into the sheets, rocking your hips the little you’re able with how you're bound, desperate for friction. Desperate for any relief.

"Still think you’re in control?” he scoffs, fingers splaying across the swell of your ass as he watches you shake. “Begging like a little bitch in heat… I should’ve stuffed your mouth before starting—at least then you'd be less of a nuisance."

Your vision blurs with tears, but you can’t even bring yours to care. You’re too lost in the incessant onslaught of pleasure, your clit raw and twitching under the relentless pressure of the vibrator, which he now pins in place with the flat of his palm. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, the coil in your belly tightening too fast, too tight.

"I-I can’t—" you choke out, voice wrecked.

"You can, and even if you can't, you will," He hisses, his voice sharp against your ear as he suddenly leans in close. “You're not allowed to cum until I say so. Not a second before. And if you do? I'll make sure your hopes of cumming disappear.”

The warning sends another shiver through your spine, making your cunt clench helplessly around nothing. The vibrator doesn’t stop—not even when your body starts to tremble violently, not even when you scream his name like it’s the only word you know.

He leans back, admiring the slick mess between your thighs, how helpless you look tied up and ruined before he’s even touched you properly.

Your first orgasm rips through you before you even know it’s happening— your body convulsing, toes curling as you sob into the sheets. You’re so pent up, so painfully needy, that the release hits you like a truck.

But Anaxa doesn’t stop.

He presses the toy harder against your clit, dragging it side to side as your thighs shake violently and your back arches off the mattress.

“Already? That fast?” he mocks, voice dripping with cruel delight. “Didn’t even give me time to enjoy it.”

Your voice cracks on a scream as the vibrator keeps working your sensitive bud, no time to come down, no reprieve.

Your second orgasm builds soon after, harsher and sharper than the last, your whole body twitching in protest as your hips twist helplessly against the restraints.

"A-Anaxa please—too much—too much!" you cry, tears hot on your cheeks.

“You said you wanted to cum,” he reminds you, utterly unbothered. “I’m just giving you what you asked for.”

He adjusts the angle, catching your clit just right, and you wail. He grinds it down meanly onto your pulsing little clit- relishing in the way you squeal and cry so loudly. He keeps up the firm rutting of the vibrator until he can see the tell tale signs of you getting close. The way you grow louder, more breathless, the way you go limp as you're right at the edge--

And then you snap. Tensing up completely as you cum.

It hits you like lightning. Your breath stutters, your body locks up, and your vision floods with white. You’re sobbing now, reduced to nothing by the raw sensation, drool smearing the pillow beneath you.

"Messy little thing," Anaxa hums, almost amused. "Look at you—crying from getting exactly what you begged for."

Your cunt clenches uselessly around nothing, dripping and overstimulated, your thighs twitching uncontrollably as he finally eases the vibrator off. You’re trembling, body completely limp, barely holding it together—and that’s when he speaks again, so casually it sends another tremor through you-

"You wanted to cum on my cock, didn't you?" he taunts, dragging the toy down slightly to tease your entrance, already fluttering and soaked. “That’s what all this fuss was about. And yet here you are—haven’t even been fucked, and you’re already this pathetic.”

You sob his name again, nearly delirious, the pressure unbearable now. Your whole body feels like it’s about to snap in half.

"Alright, slut. You’ve earned it." His voice drops, gravelly and dark with promise. "But I really hope you've learnt your lesson."

You hear the rustle of clothing—his belt unfastening, the soft clink of the buckle, fabric shifting as he strips. It’s slow, deliberate, like he wants you to feel every second of anticipation. You can’t see him, but you feel it—the moment his warmth returns behind you, the weight of his body settling between your thighs. One hand grabs your ass, spreading you open for his eyes.

And with that, he finally slides the vibrator away—and thrusts into you in one brutal, fluid motion.

This was going to be a long night.

a/n pt 2: HII SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WROTE HALF OF IT THEN LITERALLY ALMOST DIED BUT I'M OK NOW SO HERE WE GO!! HOPE U LIKE IT 👉👈😊😊 I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING THIS

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰🩷

𝐡𝐞����𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

MORE

[fayes-fics]

Awakening

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You experience an awakening a few days into your arranged marriage with the Viscount.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, female masturbation, slightly dom/sub (use of little one/my lord), innocence, corruption kink, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f).

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Request fill for Anon, HERE, about Anthony being arranged married to an innocent reader. Sorry it's taken me so long to write this, Nonny, but I hope you still enjoy it, even though I changed the parameters of the request slightly. Enjoy <3

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is most perplexing. 

He is all at once both the best and the worst person you know. A providing husband, but an absent one. A polite, undisputable gentleman, but one who has barely said more than a handful of words to you, his supposed wife. An arrangement was brokered with your father, and now, merely weeks later, you are walking the halls of Aubrey Hall as the new Viscountess Bridgerton but barely feel as if you know your husband.

The night before your wedding, you had received a very vague talk from your mother about how you should expect your new husband to enter your bedchamber and perform his “spousal rights” and that, as his wife, you must allow whatever he decides to do. You still have no earthly idea what that might mean; your room has never once yet seen his presence—on that night or, indeed, any of the four nights since. Part of you worries you have somehow failed to be the wife he needs; part of you is relieved he has not done anything to you that you must endure in some way.  

There is one thing you are certain of, though. While Anthony may be distant, almost an absence from your life, always busy with some business or other, there is no doubt you find his countenance pleasing. He is so very dashing and handsome. Earlier today, he swept in from a hunt wearing very tight tan breeches, and the sight caused a funny, warm tingling low in your gut. Between your legs, really.  He nodded politely as he swept past you in the hallway, continuing his discussion with his brother as he did so. You twist to watch his retreating figure, wishing you could have the opportunity to speak with him, but the view of his shapely bottom in those tight trousers is at least partial compensation. 

So as you lay under the covers on your fifth night alone, your ladies' maids having brushed your hair and taken their leave, you sigh deeply and snuggle into the crispy white sheets. Your thoughts turn to your husband again and that outfit he was wearing. The way those trousers clung to him, the movement of muscle as he strode purposefully. And that sensation rears again—the pulsing between your legs. It seems like your body needs something, but you do not know what. Flushed for some reason, you push away the covers. Before you know it, curiosity has the better of you. While you replay the image of him walking in your mind, your legs fall apart, your hand reflexively falling between them to provide a remedy—almost like an itch you need to scratch.

Your fingers slide through folds of flesh there, and strangely, there is unfamiliar sticky dampness. When you pass your fingers over a particular spot where your two lips meet, you get a pleasurable spike that makes your mouth slack.

Oh.

Almost without meaning to, you keep touching that spot, a call and response that is impossible to resist. The more you rub right there, your body swelling slightly under your movements, the better you feel. A languid buzz in your brain that feels both stimulating and relaxing. When your husband's image pops into your head again, everything suddenly gets sharper and more urgent. And so you do. You think of him. His handsome face, the way his forearms flex when you sit across from him at dinner, and he eats with his sleeves rolled up and again those legs and bottom in those tight trousers. Tumbling images that speed up in your mind as your fingers do the same, powerless to resist. 

You are soon gasping and writhing, yet you do not stop; it feels too good. Something almost violent happens in your body, your lungs restricting, your brain buzzing, and suddenly, with a crest of physical delight, you are experiencing something completely novel. There is a squeezing, rippling inside, and you cry out as a remarkable ecstasy takes your body. When eventually the feeling subsides, you collapse back down, panting and bewildered; your whole body flushed, your fingers, still resting between your legs, wettened with a slick substance that could only have come from within you. 

Whatever just happened, it's nothing you have been told about before. Not fully understanding, all you know is you want to experience it again. It's addictive, powerful, and so very relaxing once over. You instantly fall into a deep, sated slumber and wake up the most refreshed you have felt in many months.

And so it becomes a habit. 

Whenever you feel the need and have a private moment, you retire to your room and touch your body until you feel that pinnacle—often thinking upon the Viscount as you do so. His name even falls from your lips, breathy, almost a tasty morsel, as you find your peak. It is no longer something you only do when you retire to bed for the night. You find yourself doing so any time of day, whenever the mood strikes you, an addictive, fun, illicit thrill. You wonder idly if such a thing is taboo, but you struggle to believe something that feels so good could ever be unacceptable behaviour as long as you are in private, alone.

One week after your wedding, on an uneventful afternoon, you put down your needlework and huff a sigh, your eyes drawn by movement outside. There, riding towards the house at speed across the lawn is Anthony. It's a sunny summer day; he wears only a shirt billowing in the breeze with sleeves pushed up around his elbows. And again, those tan breeches flexing around his legs as the horse gallops, him moving with the beast in a rhythmic motion. Time seems to stand still as you are inexorably drawn to the window to watch the sight coming closer and closer. The whole time your breath becomes more rapid, that telltale throbbing between your legs flares. You decide there is only one course of action.

When he veers off to the left towards the stables to the side of the house, you turn heel and run up the stairs. Keen to have that incredible high. This new, enthralling image will be the star of your thoughts this time. You pass his valet on the stairs and politely nod before scurrying and closing your bedroom door behind you.

You drop your underwear onto the floor, hitching up your dress and chemise around your hips as you throw yourself onto your bed, not even bothering to pull back the bedspread, so very keen to touch yourself.

It doesn't take much, that familiar slick already there, painting your fingers as you slide them against your nub, one hand reaching behind to grasp the headboard as you writhe on your fingers, all thoughts of Anthony and that repetitive bouncing motion of him upon his steed. So wrapped up in pleasure, his name on your lips, you do not hear the knob turning and the door opening.

“My valet told me you were here….” his loud baritone voice rings out around the room but grinds to a halt mid-sentence.

You squeal in surprise; the star of your fantasies standing right before you, skin sunkissed and his hair tousled from his ride, a look of utter shock painting his face.

Instinctively, you clamp your knees together and attempt to push down your dress, but it’s too little, too late. He has seen exactly what you were doing, and now he looks distressed, hIs breathing uneven.

“Did you…. Did you say my name?” The tone is not one you have heard from him before, rough but straining.

You sit up slightly and avert your gaze downwards, abashed he has interrupted your private moment.

“Yes,” you confess quietly.

He takes a hesitant step forward towards the bed and swallows heavily.

“You were touching yourself? And... and saying my name?” he looks almost winded.

“Yes,” again, it's soft, and you chew your lower lip, thinking perhaps you are about to be chastised. He certainly looks very… agitated.

“Do you know what you are doing to yourself?” he blurts out, a vein in his forehead prominent as he locks his jaw.

“Not really,” you admit, “only that when I think of you, I get an ache between my legs, and it feels wonderful when I touch it.”

He makes a strangled noise and closes his eyes, his head tipping back slightly.

“I… I did not expect to consummate yet,” he mutters heavily, “I thought I had more time.” He seems to be talking to himself as much as you.

“What does that mean? Consummate?” you inquire, your mother's words coming to the forefront. Perhaps this is what she was referring to.

“As your husband, I have perhaps been neglectful of my spousal duties,” he says slowly, his head tipping back down to look at you, his eyes intense.

“Duties?” you frown.

“What you were doing to yourself…” he begins, moving closer now so he stands by the bed, “it is because you desire me. I had not considered that may be the case.” He twists his mouth into a thoughtful pout, but you do not miss how he seems to stare at your breasts as they rise and fall inside your stays. “But now that I know it is true… it… changes things.”

“How?” you look up at him, wanting to understand.

A smirk tugs at the left corner of his mouth. “It means there are things I can teach you, things you should know that can happen between a man and a woman. Things you will find pleasurable, just like when you touch yourself. It is my responsibility, as your husband, to show you such things now.” His hand reaches out, and you inhale sharply as it lands upon your raised knee.

“You make it sound more like an obligation than something you want to do,” you respond, voice wavering at the distraction his hand is causing, the viscous throbbing between your legs even heavier now.

“Oh, nothing could be further from the truth; I want to, now that I know you desire it too.” His voice is a soft thrum that makes your nipples peak and a shiver run down your spine.

“Why have you not come to me before, husband?” it sounds breathy even to your ears.

“I thought you disliked me. That this was an arrangement you were enduring. That I should be polite and respectful. Keep my distance, at the least, until you adjust to your new life as Viscountess. Until an heir is needed. But now I know that is not the case…” 

His voice is a pleasant low rumble as his hand starts to move, slightly calloused fingertips skirting the soft skin of your inner thigh, your dress and chemise bunching around his toned forearm as he does so.

“What are you…?” your breath quickening now.

“Shhhh, Viscountess, let me help you,” he hushes, and you stare at him with wide eyes as his warm fingers reach your folds. He hisses at the heat and wetness he finds there. “Oh, you really do like me,” he purrs, and something in you makes you lean slowly back onto the padded plush headboard, unable to look away from his face.

“Yes…” you whimper as his thumb, much broader than yours, makes a sideways swipe over your swollen nub.

“How often?” he murmurs, shifting to take a seat on the bed next to you, his thumb never wavering in its slow, intoxicating rhythm,

“How often wh-what?” You stutter, rapidly losing the ability to form words as your body riots, grasping the bedspread on either side of you, scarcely believing how amazing it feels when someone else touches you, especially him.

“How often do you touch yourself and think of me?” his voice gravelly.

“Everyday… so-sometimes m-more than once,” you pant out, your lips tingling, holding his fiery gaze.

“Oh, you naughty little thing,” he growls, and it sets your face aflame. “Touching yourself multiple times a day and thinking of me. Do you reach a peak every time?”

“Y-yes, my lord….”

His eyes flash; he leans in closer so you can smell spiced cologne and traces of his natural body scent, heightened from his riding exertions.

“Please call me that when I'm touching you,” he asks, but it almost sounds like an order, one you are happy to obey.

“Yes, my lord,” you respond instantly.

“Good little one,” he compliments, and the praise makes something bloom inside you, an urgent want to please him.

He changes his thumb’s motion to a circular pattern and presses more insistently. You gasp loud, glancing down at the slight of his toned arm flexing as he moves, his fingers obscured by your dress rucked up around his wrist.

“Tell me, have you put your fingers inside yourself?” his tone still velvety.

“No? What do you mean? I just,” you pause to whimper, “do as you are right now.”

His face turns into a handsome smirk you can't look away from.

“Would you like to find out how it feels to have someone inside your body, little one?” The question is molten, and you swear your entire skin feels too heated and tight.

You just nod, snagging your lower lip with your tooth, and then your eyes bulge as a finger slips lower and presses into a fleshy barrier that resists his touch.

“I can feel you are still intact, a chaste maiden indeed,” he rumbles, and part of you wonders what that means, but you do not ask. “Luckily, there is just enough of an opening for me to do this…” 

You moan as a single finger pushes a fraction into your body, something completely novel and profound. You stare at him open-mouthed

“Oh, my dear little thing, I have barely even put the tip of my finger inside and look at you. Wait until it's my cock,” he warns darkly.

“Your what?” 

He grabs your hand off the bedding and guides it to the junction of his thighs. Something is hot and hard under there, and you cannot hide your shock even as your hand curls around it and squeezes instinctually.

He growls. “That’s it, feel it. My cock is going to go inside you, right here….” he lectures, and his finger that was teasing pushes deeper into your pussy, aided by the pool of wetness leaking from within.

Again you moan at the invasion, and he looks so proud, pumping the digit slowly as his thumb restarts its movements on your clit.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim in a harsh whisper, the feeling so utterly mindblowing.

“No, your lord,” he corrects, preening from what he can do to your body.

“My l-lord….” you amend stutteringly.

He nods his approval and leans over you, his breath warm on your face as he observes your expressions, gauging your response to each move he makes. It's so overwhelming that he is touching you inside and outside your body.

You are rapidly losing the ability to do anything besides make noises and chase sensation; your knees falling further apart, your hand still on his cock, pressing unconsciously with the same rhythm his fingers play your body. He glances down at his lap, his other hand moving from its grip on your wrist to cover yours, his hips tilting a fraction, pressing more insistently into your palm. 

“Would you like to come right now?” his breath almost as ragged as yours.

“W-what is that?” you stumble.

He huffs a bemused sound. “When you reach your peak, little one. It is called coming.”

“Yes, please, my lord,” you answer the instant you understand, spiralling fast now, your lungs heaving, your slit hot and slippery, where he teases you.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, and you obey instantly. 

He gently removes your hand from his cock, and his fingers slip out of your body. You sense movement on the bed, and he manhandles your feet outwards and upwards towards your hips. Cotton brushing the back of your thighs, and a wave of warm air across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now. A few seconds later, you feel something entirely new— a wet, hot, thick mass sliding through your folds unlike anything else. Your eyes fly open, and you startle to see that Anthony has crawled between your legs and his head is now buried at the apex of your thighs. Then you cry out as he does the same thing again, realising he is using his tongue.

“What the….?” you can't even complete the sentence.

“It is not just my fingers I can use, little one,” he tutors, his tone dusky, his breath hot on the patch of hair between your legs as he pulls up slightly to talk, his eyes burning into yours.

You watch, mesmerised, as he flattens his tongue wide and lowers his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, morphing into a spear as he maps your clit, swirling around all sides. It's so intense your channel flutters, wishing his fingers were still inside you. 

“Yes, that is it, you like that, do you not? Come on,” he coaxes as he takes a deep breath, inhaling your body scent. The way he is handling you, so absorbed in you, a euphoric feeling burns behind your ribs at the idea he wants your pleasure.

He envelopes your clitoral hood and sucks hard. His eyes flashing with pride as he has to grab your hips and hold you down, your back arching off the bed, crying out without caring if anyone can hear. The way he growls as you do so tells you exactly how much he wants to hear it, his pride that he can do this to you.

Something primal washes over you as he bites gently on your swollen clit, holding it between his teeth as you feel two fingers at your entrance pushing in, making you cry as you stretch around him, your body accommodating them even as you feel so filled.

“Anthony… Anthony, my lord,” you chant repeatedly as he holds you down with one strong arm and rocks his fingers shallowly into your body, his tongue swirling. It’s a sight that you can’t look away from. His hips flex into the bed almost involuntarily, as if his cock needs friction, too.

You feel that tide rising somehow more potent when orchestrated by him, a white-hot burning where he plays you and a tension in all your muscles.

“Give it to me,” he snarls, muffled, feeling the ripples around your clit and pussy against his face and fingers.

He redoubles his efforts, almost mercilessly lashing you with his tongue, varying pressure and speed. Entirely without meaning to, your hands fly into his hair, loving the sensation of thick curls sinking between your fingers as you grasp his strands, making him cry out right into your body. And it’s precisely what you need.

Every fibre of your being held taut and shaking now snaps, the pressure inside you like a dam breaking, so much more intense than you have ever experienced from just your fingers. Something almost inexplicable, ephemeral, your body experiencing a hundred different things firing at once. Your world contracting and exploding. You can feel your own heartbeat in your extremities, a rush of blood in your ears, eyes screwed shut as you shudder under him, and yet he moves with you as your hips roll in waves, his mouth never leaving your body. You know you are leaking onto his face, your inside clenching powerfully around his fingers. Dimly, you are aware the noises you make are loud, but you find yourself unable to prevent it and don't even want to.

As you recover, he crawls over your prone body as you lay there panting, fundamentally changed in the sharing of this experience with him, of him to be the one to make your body reach its peak. A true awakening of your senses.

It’s then he kisses you for the first time since a cursory brush of lips at the altar on your wedding day. His face musky with your juices, his lips hot, soft and damp as they press to yours. This is so different to that kiss. It's lingering and hot, his lips plush on yours.

His handsome face breaks into a dazzling smile as he looms over you, the back of his hand gently brushing down your cheekbone as you stare up at him dazed, the taste of yourself seeping through your lips. “Rest for now, my dear wife.” His tone is softer now, the use of wife instead of little one making your breath catch.  “I shall return tonight, and you shall become a woman,” his voice laden with untold promise.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

[fadedpiink]

after everyone's asleep

txt x gn!reader

somewhat specific nights with txt

genre: fluff / comfort / slice of life / soft boyfriends / established relationship. warnings: none. just soft and warm. just the kind of night where the world slows down and you remember what it feels like to be safe.

author's note: this has been in the drafts for 2 weeks cus i wasn't sure if i liked it fr BUT this is my first time writing for txt/kpop in general! :3 so lmk what u guys think

soobin — windows cracked open, the sound of crickets and a soft breeze sneaking into the room. you’re both tangled in a mess of limbs, too lazy to fix the blanket even though it’s half falling off the bed. soobin’s voice is sleepy, low and mumbly.

“why’re you still awake... come here.”

his arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. his cheek rests against the top of your head, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. the moonlight slices through the blinds, but neither of you move to shut it out. it’s quiet. peaceful. the kind of night where the world could end and you wouldn’t even care, not as long as you’re in his arms.

yeonjun — the air conditioner is humming but his body is always warm against yours, especially when he lets you steal his oversized t-shirt to sleep in. his hand finds yours under the covers and absentmindedly squeezes it, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like muscle memory.

“you’re comfy,” he mutters, half-asleep, “think i’m gonna keep you forever.”

you’re both stretched out on the couch, feet tangled under the throw blanket, some random drama playing on mute because the real entertainment is whispering nonsense back and forth until one of you drifts off. the room smells like popcorn and laundry detergent. safe. soft. home.

beomgyu — your window is open and the fan’s blowing but the summer heat still sticks to your skin, so he’s sprawled on the floor, you curled up next to him, both too lazy to move. every so often his hand reaches out to brush against yours, like he just needs to remind himself you’re there.

“wanna go get ice cream,” he mumbles, staring at the ceiling. “it’s 1am.” “...so?”

the night feels endless, like you’re both the only two people alive. your laughter fades into soft humming, and eventually into silence, both of you just existing together in the glow of streetlights sneaking through the curtains.

taehyun — soft lo-fi playing from the speaker, a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand, and his hoodie hanging off your frame because he noticed you shiver once. your legs are tangled under the blanket, arms free, and he’s holding your hand under the pillow like it’s second nature.

“are you warm enough?” he asks, brushing your cheek. you nod. “are you?” his lips twitch into a tiny smile. “i am now.”

the night passes slow, calm, full of quiet conversations about nothing and everything. the kind of night you wish you could bottle up and save for when the world feels too loud.

huening kai — the windows are fogged up from the rain, the room dim except for the string lights he insisted on hanging. he’s laying on the floor with you, both staring at the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“do you think the stars miss us when it rains?” “what?” “just wondering.”

he turns his head and smiles at you, soft and sleepy. your hands find each other in the space between. the rain taps against the glass, steady and slow, and you both drift off right there on the floor, warm skin against warm skin, hearts beating slow and safe.

masterlist hope you enjoyed! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags or anon messages!

© fadedpiink 2025

[bethsvrse]

hi lovely! I was wondering if when u said you wrote for the marauders you meant just them or their era? also not sure if you're currently taking requests but if you aren't feel free to ignore this next part! could I please have remus lupin sfw headcanons or a short drabble (whichever you prefer 🫶🏽) about him being extra clingy near the full moon and he gets mad when Sirius jokingly tries to take you away from him?

also I'm around the same age as you and I was wondering if you wanted to be friends? totes fine if not 😎 also I love the way you write and you seem so cool. Could I be the 🫧 anon? thank youuuuu

p.s. random question but what's your opinion on taylor swift?

okay now actually byeeeeee

PAIRING Remus Lupin x reader

A/N hello!! I write for most people in the marauders era so not just the marauders. I have added you as 🫧 anon and as for Taylor Swift, I think she’s pretty cool! I wouldn’t consider myself a swiftie but I do listen to a few of her songs <3

WARNINGS absolutely nothing, just clingy Remus Lupin 🫶

As the full moon becomes closer, Remus has noticeable changes in his personality, specifically in his affection towards you. He's always been somewhat reserved in his displays of affection, opting for subtle gestures like casually wrapping an arm around you in the common room or discreetly intertwining your fingers under the desk during class but when the full moon rolls around, his need for your presence skyrockets.

With each passing day leading up to the event, Remus' longing to be near you grows more intense, as if he's magnetically drawn to your side. It's as though he finds comfort in your closeness, seeking refuge from the emotions stirring within him.

Remus has been sitting at the black lake for over half an hour now, wishing you were here with him but knowing that you asked not to be bothered when studying. Currently, you were in the Gryffindor common room with Sirius as you help him study for your guys’ history of magic test. Sirius has never been that good at remembering things, and since it’s a written test, he begged for your help.

Remus wrestled with conflicting emotions as he imagined you and Sirius in the common room. The mere thought of Sirius' hands near you stirred unease within him, knowing that sometimes Sirius' affectionate nature crosses a line. Despite recognizing Sirius's need for your help with studying, Remus couldn't shake the discomfort gnawing at him. With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the serene view of the lake, his steps quickening as he retreated to the safety of Gryffindor Tower, his longing for you clouding his rationality.

As Remus entered the common room, he saw you and Sirius huddled over the history of magic book, your heads close together in concentration. A pang of jealousy surged through him at the sight of Sirius's hand resting casually on your shoulder.

"Hey, mind if I join?" Remus asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him.

Sirius glanced up, a grin playing on his lips. "course."

Remus settled onto the couch beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh, his touch gentle yet possessive. He felt a surge of satisfaction as you leaned into his touch, your focus momentarily faltering from the history of magic book.

But Sirius couldn't resist the opportunity to stir the pot. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he reached over and plucked the quill from your hand, his grin widening as he held it just out of your reach.

"Oi, Sirius, give that back," you protested, a playful edge to your tone as you reached for the quill.

Remus's jaw tightened, his possessive instincts kicking into overdrive at the sight of Sirius teasing you. He shot Sirius a warning glare, but his friend only chuckled, the quill still dangling tantalizingly between his fingers.

"Come on, Moony, lighten up," Sirius said, his tone teasing as he waggled the quill in front of you.

But Remus had reached his limit. With a growl of frustration, he snatched the quill from Sirius's hand, his grip tight as he shot his friend a glare that could curdle milk.

"Jesus Christ, Sirius" Remus said (basically yelled). "She’s my girlfriend so please stop flirting with her."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the intensity in Remus's voice. For a moment, there was a tense silence between them, the weight of Remus's unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Sirius sighed, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "Sorry, Moony. I wasn’t flirting with her though. Just playing but I can take a hint. Just don't forget about our study session tomorrow, yeah?" He said, directing the last part at you.

And with that, Sirius made a show of gathering his things, his departure accompanied by an obnoxious huff and a theatrical eye roll. Remus watched him go, shouting out a meek “sorry” as he was walking out.

When the door swung shut behind Sirius, you turned to Remus, concern etched on your face. "Are you okay?" you asked, reaching out to gently touch his arm. Without a word, Remus leaned forward, his lips brushing against the crook of your neck in a tender kiss. "I'm fine," he murmured, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. "Just... feeling a bit... jealous, I suppose."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly, teasing him gently. "You, Remus Lupin, are jealous?" you teased, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A playful smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Oh, shut up," he replied, his fingers twitching as if considering a playful retaliation.

Before you could react, Remus suddenly lunged forward, his fingers finding your sides and tickling mercilessly. Laughter bubbled from you, mixing with his own chuckles as you squirmed beneath his touch, trying to fend off his playful assault.

"Okay, okay, I surrender!" you gasped between laughs, breathless from both the tickling and the infectious joy in the room.

With a triumphant grin, Remus relented, letting you catch your breath as he leaned in to share a sweet kiss, a silent promise of his affection and devotion.

As the tension melted away, you wrapped your arms around each other, sinking into the comfort of the couch cushions and the warmth of the crackling fire. “Apologise to Sirius when you see him again though.” You mutter.

Remus pressed a kiss against your forehead, “I will, don’t worry.”

[muqingfx]

can you write mu qing being nursed back to health against his wishes please. he would never admit it even if it meant dying (cough.. mt tonglu lava scene.. cough) so it's what he deserves

anon didnt specify for ships, so i did what any normal person would do. four of them. whether its platonic or romantic is totally up to you!

"Let. Me," Mu Qing struggles against Xie Lian's vice-like grip with gritted teeth, "go." He swings his fist to land a blow on his friend's jaw in an attempt to break free, but his punch is deterred by yet another nuisance.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing hisses, vision still blurry. If it weren't for Xie Lian’s hold on him, Mu Qing would have shamefully collapsed head-first into the dirt.

“Mu Qing,” he hears Xie Lian say softly, “you just need some rest.”

“You don't get to strangle me!” Mu Qing retaliates, kicking and screaming like a child.

From beside him, he hears Feng Xin click his tongue. “We’re not fucking strangling you. And if you weren't so fucking difficult–”

“Just leave me alone!” Mu Qing finally manages to shove them both away. Are his eyes playing tricks on him again or is he swaying on his feet? “Why can't you just… let me be?” he catches himself asking before tumbling to the ground.

“Bloody rascal, how on earth did this happen?”

“I think they used a spell to weaken his body. His spiritual powers are still depleted–if might take a while for it to rise up again on it’s own, San Lang.”

“Then, what does gege suggest we do?”

Mu Qing winces when something wet presses against his abdomen. His eyes flutter open, yet all he sees is solid darkness.

“He’s waking up!” he hears Feng Xin say. “Mu Qing, can you hear me?"

Of course I can hear you, oaf, is what Mu Qing tries to say, but his voice catches at his throat.

A cold palm presses against his forehead and Mu Qing wants nothing more than to slap it off.

“He’s burning up.” Hua Cheng. The hand moves further down his face, fingertips brushing against his eyelids. There’s a brief moment of utter vulnerability, as if Mu Qing is giving up his soul for another. But then his vision clears, and he sees three very different expressions on familiar faces.

Xie Lian’s temple is creased, his mouth downturned as he stares at Mu Qing’s face. And upon glancing down, he sees Xie Lian’s hand squeezing his own. A face of unhidden concern; pity. Something dark brews inside him as he processes that–being a damsel in distress, the General of the Southwest. Ridiculous.

Feng Xin is kneeling on the mat beside him, a damp cloth in his hand. His thick brows are furrowed as he scowls at Mu Qing. Strands of brunette hair fall over his face, his usually somewhat-neat bun now undone. He looks tired, annoyed. At Mu Qing. For what, wasting his time? For being so infirm and demanding attention? Nobody asked him to take care of Mu Qing, that imbecile.

And then there's the beast of a man, Hua Cheng. Hands folded across his chest, he looks as nonchalant as ever. His eyes sear into Mu Qing, bored and degrading.

Mu Qing feels the headache he had woken up with aggravate.

“Why am I being gawked at like some pathetic critter?” It comes out coarse and rough, his throat still aching and sore.

“Pathetic, indeed,” Hua Cheng sneers.

A knot tightens in his gut, the humiliation finally settling in. Gathering the strength to do so, Mu Qing lifts himself so his elbows support his weight. A sharp pain surges through him and both Xie Lian and Feng Xin scramble to grasp his arms, preventing the demeaning fall.

“Careful, Mu Qing,” Xie Lian chides. His fingers dig into Mu Qing’s skin–wait, where are his clothes?!

As if reading his mind, Feng Xin says, “Your clothes are ruined. Covered in fucking blood. We took it off so we could dress your wounds. Which are fucking bad, by the way.”

“Fuck you guys, that doesn't mean you can strip me of my robes. I’m not a doll.”

He feels Xie Lian’s hold on him weaken, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes–did Mu Qing go too far?

“I don't mean–I… that's not. What I. You know. I’m–”

The bed dips on his right, and Mu Qing trails off. From his peripheral vision, he sees Hua Cheng taking off his own upper robe.

“If you're so uncomfortable,” he says casually, “you can put this on, general.” The ghost king drapes his red upper robe over Mu Qing’s shoulder, and his touch is so gentle, so tender, Mu Qing actually trembles.

“Cold?” he asks, right into Mu Qing’s ear. Mu Qing’s head tips forward to bypass Hua Cheng’s warm–how is it warm when he’s dead–breath. When he glances up, he locks eyes with Xie Lian, who pouts with his eyes wide like a deer’s.

“We’re not strangers.” his palms cup Mu Qing’s cheeks, and he finds himself leaning towards the touch. “We’re your friends.”

“Yeah, jackass. Stop pushing us away with every inch of your fucking life. It’s fucking annoying,” Feng Xin just has to add.

Mu Qing turns his head to glare, but Feng Xin smiles like a maniac instead of glaring right back. It’s fond and adoring and completely unlike him.

Hua Cheng scoffs from beside him. “It’s really not that hard to let yourself be spoiled, just for a little bit. You're too hard on yourself, Xuan Zhen.”

“Fucking hate to agree with Hua Cheng,” he hears Feng Xin mutter.

“Ugh…” Mu Qing hides his face with his hands, embarrassed. He’s sure he looks nothing less than a tomato.

Xie Lian’s chuckle fills the air and Mu Qing thinks that maybe this isn't so bad.

This is nice.

He might not want this again, or he definitely will want this again.

[stinkyboyfaliure]

Hello! This is my first request so I'm a little nervous. Can I please have an White beard x omega male reader? Male lactation, Mpreg and breeding kink (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠). Just old married couple. I've looked in many places for authors who would agree to write an omegaverse with a male reader for One Piece but I've hardly found any (English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me) Thank you!

Whitebeard/ x Male reader

Warnings: mpreg, omegaverse, lactation, breeding kink

Notes: Thank you anon for being my first one piece ask, also your English is fine!

You two had been together for years, through everything you chose to stay together. Edward kept adopting child after child, “child” as in teenager that left everything behind or had nothing to go back to; but you stayed. He never stopped loving you not even for a moment, eventually as time went on your old omega brain started feeling fuzzy whenever the topic of children came up; whether it’d be Edward calling the crew his children or the crew talking about some kid that they saw, you felt a sense of longing. And you realized you wanted your own child, though you considered the crew to be your children; you wanted to give birth to a child of your own blood. 

He never brought up the topic of having children, knowing that most of society during your twos prime had still considered omega’s to be glorified incubators. One night you drank a bit too much. It was a big party for some great achievement the crew had made. 

“Edward, love, can we have children?” you’d asked him softly, slurring the words a bit due to your drunken state. He turned to you a bit taken aback before softly kissing the top of your head and whispering. 

“Lets wait till you sober up, need ta’ make sure you actually want this love” he patted your head.

Your mind hadn’t changed about that the day after, not that he cared he would happily give you the world if you so wished. So here you were; his large muscular body pressed against your equally muscular body. 

You could hear him panting and grunting above you while you drooled dumbly as his cock pistoned in and out of you. He let out soft “I love you’s” as he did so. He’d always been soft to you, never wanting to push you too hard due to his size. Even though you were both relatively the same height. You both hadn’t had the time nor energy to do this kind of thing except for your heats or his ruts so this was a nice change. 

His large cock stretched you deliciously as he bred you full of his cum. He’d come so many times already but he still wanted to be sure you’d get pregnant so he kept going. You both could hear the way his thick loads of cum squelch obscenely he thrusted. You could feed the way his loads bloated your belly making it round slightly. 

A mix of cum and slick drooled down your legs from your core while your aching cock bounged and slapped against your stomach with each hash thrust. You were fucked out by now; your head fuzzy and light feeling. You don’t know how long it’d been but Edward showed no signs of stopping his brutal thrusts or the praise that spilled from his lips. He had you on your back, belly up in a mating press, he groaned slightly feeling your fat aching cock slap against his and your sweaty body’s nestled between you both. It felt like it’d been hours but you were fucked too dumb to tell. 

“Gods look at you love, yer belly’s all big n round you look amazing” He growled deeply in your ear, it was clear he was very pleased by his own handiwork and felt the need to praise you. He also did love you and wanted to show you so. 

A few months passed and your belly swelled with new life, your pecs started producing mild and ever so often they would leak. At first you found that incredibly embarrassing but Edward didn’t seem to mind; in fact he looked to be enjoying the feeling of massaging your swollen chest when needed. He got this stupidly happy look on his face every time he saw milk squirt out of your puffy nipples. The baby was due in October and Edawrd had the crew set up a room on the ship.

[shouyuus]

(from prev blog) anon asked: Happy bday!! This is my first time using tumblr so idek if this is the right place to ask or if it’s too late! But I was wondering if you could write a Zayne x reader drabble for your 30 event 🤍 I saw someone make a rose out of snow by pressing snow on a card and wrapping it around a stick; I think it’d be so cute for Zayne to do that for the reader while they’re walking back home or smthing (even tho he could use his evol this is cuter 😭)

一翦玫 (one cut rose)

zayne; fluff; i rly said fuck the word limit with this one whoops

─── 黎深 THE MORNING DAWNS in a painful, world-swallowing blue, not a wish or whisper of clouds in sight, and Zayne knows that it’ll be cold enough to blister. He can always feel the winter creeping into his bones, twining between his muscles till they ache for something, for anything.

You’re bleary in his arms when he shakes you awake, and the way you peer up at him through sleep-heavy lashes makes his entire world shimmer down to the size of this bedroom, of your tiny groan as you try to bury your face in his pillow and swat him away.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you,” he says, voice indulgent in the way it only is when he’s speaking to you.

The snow crunches fresh and true underfoot, and he watches as you bloom beneath the robin’s egg sky, head tilting back, your breath twisting up in a thin spiral of white mist as you let out a long breath.

“It’s so beautiful out!”

“Careful, or you’ll slip,” he admonishes, tugging you off a small snowbank back onto the sidewalk. You pout up at him even as he adjusts your scarf.

“Killjoy…” you mutter, and Zayne scoffs, tugging on his own turned up collar.

You pass by an old man selling flowers on the street corner, and you skip ahead to press a bill into his hand, telling him to keep warm even as he smiles and hands you a flower. Zayne watches, a tender happiness threading up his throat as you turn back to hand him the flower.

“For your desk,” you say, “to add some color, or else people are gonna think you’ve got no personality.”

Zayne takes the flower and studies it, a rose in shocking lemon-rind yellow. He brings it up to his nose.

“Thanks.”

You grin up at him, looking pleased and mischievous both.

“Now you owe me a flower too!” you say. Zayne regards you with a contemplative sort of look before turning and continuing down the street. You pout, jogging after him.

“Fine, fine — you don’t have to give me a flower — I was just —”

“You’ll get one,” he says, reaching into his pocket for a credit card. Stooping down towards a mound of untouched snow, he scoops up a thin layer on the card and begins his work, pressing each layer around the previous one, using the heat of his hand to melt the “petals” till they curl into one single snow-white rose.

You gasp as he finishes his work, dusting his hands off on his jacket.

“It’s… beautiful! But… how am I gonna carry if there’s no stem?”

At this, Zayne tsks, summoning his Evol, and you watch with bright eyes as a crystaline stem forms from the base of the rose, extending out, glimmering leaves unfurling in ice as he hands the flower to you. You take it between delicate fingers and smile as you lean in to take a whiff.

“It won’t smell like a rose,” Zayne says, tucking his hands back into his pockets, watching as you stare down at the miraculous flower, “that’s not something my Evol can do just yet.”

But your smile is brilliant as a winter’s morning as you turn back towards him, clutching the flower to your chest, “It’s okay — it smells like winter!”

“Does it now?” Zayne asks, amusement twinkling behind his eyes, “And what exactly does winter smell like?”

You twirl the white rose between careful fingers before shooting him a truly heart-stopping wink —

“It smells like you.”

final wc: 604 || be part of my taglist!

a/n: a few words of explanation -- the trend that anon is asking about can be see here, its rly very cute. also, the title of this fic is a "play" on the popular 一剪梅, aka the "xue hua piao piao" song LMFAO, where i changed the "梅" meaning "plum" from the song title to “玫" from '玫瑰" or "rose" since both 梅 and 玫 are pronounced "mei3". i thought it was a fun little thing to do and the actual song itself is about winter and snow so! :)

taglist: @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies

[chris-prank]

I don’t know if you did this already but can you write out the characters favorite ways to show affection please?

Or maybe do one where they are confronted with their fears perhaps like, Atlas is found and is sent to be disassembled while their darling gets arrested for stealing, Vincent’s darling gets captured by a different evil doctor and gets accidentally turned into a zombie, someone new to the town saw Martin at a glance and freaks out, and maybe Esteban has a nightmare about bugs while his darling comforts him. lol just had ideas😁

Also your writing is as awesome as always and I hope you’re doing well!

-💚🐺

It's nice to see you again, green heart wolf anon! I hope you’re doing well too and thank you for your kind woooords! 😆❤️

I couldn’t pass the opportunity to do some hurt and comfort, so the way they show affection will have to wait for another time 😔

CW: Violence and mention of blood (in Atlas’s part), mention of insects (in Esteban’s part) and hurt comfort

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Atlas has never wished death upon someone as much he did in this instant, and that was saying a lot. They had dared to threaten you if he didn’t follow them without making a scene, and so he was now sitting in the back of a truck with special restraints that deactivated his arms. Apart from him there were three guards, with one driving the vehicle. Obviously, he ran in his program every scenario possible to get himself out of this mess, but it all ended up with him being either destroyed or deactivated. Atlas’s sulking was cut short as something hit them with full force.

The violent shock sent Atlas flying across the van. Unfazed by this, the android strategically positioned his body so it could hit the device placed on his back. It broke in pieces on impact, freeing him for good. Some of the men weren’t so lucky as he heard the distinctive sound of a broken neck and saw the chauffeur hit his head so hard on the windshield it went through it. That meant there were only two people left between him and his chance to get back to you.

“FUCK HE’S FREE!” One of the guards yelled at the top of lungs, “SHOOT HIM!”

Atlas switched his attention to the one who had just shouted. Staggering towards him, he dropped to the side at the last second to avoid a bullet. Standing up again swiftly and with ease, he snatched the knife attached to the guard's thighs before sticking it into his neck. After eliminating this vermin and without even looking behind him, he threw the bloodied knife at the last survivor. The weapon ended up in the man's heart with precision.

The android kicked open the already beaten door and climbed out. He scanned the area with his eyes and saw… you. You had staggered out of a car, or what used to be one. Your left hand was supporting one side of your head, blood mixing in your hair and staining your palm. If Atlas had a heart, he would have felt it squeeze. He ran up to you and caught you in his arms before you had the time to even show any sign of falling. Despite the pain he felt by the mere sight of your injured body, by looking in your eyes and weak smile Atlas felt loved like never before.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Vincent was faithful. He wasn’t like those weak minded men that left their partner the second they had a clinical condition. So, even now, despite your body having been mangled and transformed into his worst fear, the mad scientist still had an undying love for you. His boss was also surprisingly supportive of his plan of researching a cure, but Dr. Seraph wasn’t oblivious. Fatalité surely had his reasons to let his sidekick waste day and night on this “side project”, as he liked to call it. The intentions behind it didn’t matter, as long as he had the resources and time at his disposal, it was fine for Vincent.

Entering his lab after a long and tiring day of an unsuccessful battle against some heroes, Dr. Seraph limped his way to his desk while holding his side. He closed his eyes for a second and tried to imagine the words of concern you would have told him seeing his messed up face. Technically, you were there with him… just not capable of sharing any kind words at the moment. Despite it all, Vincent rose up from his chair, wincing at his clearly broken ribs. He walked over to a gigantic glass tube that didn’t look odd in his laboratory filled with strange machines. That’s where he kept you. This was the only way to keep your flesh from rotting away. The only way for him to keep you by his side.

He placed his hand on the glass, wishing he could reach out and touch you like he did so many times before. The empty shell that you had become of yourself grunted and banged onto the surface, the instinct of eating his flesh being the only thought clouding your mind. The mad scientist's eyes filled with tears at this sight and he lowered his gaze. He hated himself for not being able to look at you more than five seconds at a time. He clenched his bruised fist, his despair and sadness quickly turning into a rage filled dedication. He forced his gaze back onto you.

“N-NO! This is not the end.” He straightened his stance as he spoke, “No matter what it takes, no matter who I’ll have to kill, I will bring the real you back to me.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Martin felt incredibly grateful for the life he had in Flowermore as he watched you, enamored as ever, dancing with the other folks while he took a sip of his beer on the side. The autumn festival always had been a joyful moment for him, but with you by his side the ambiance felt even more magical. Discarding his drink, the hunter made his way up to you on the dance floor, his gentle smile directed at you contrasting with his scarred lip. Sadly, festivities were interrupted when one of the farmers and the mechanic came rushing in while holding a half conscious stranger. Everyone soon gathered around with curiosity, making it quite difficult for the doctor to go to the injured aids.

The figure was placed on the ground, and it seemed like he had difficulty keeping his head upright. But when the man finally looked up and saw Martin in the crowd, his face contorted in an expression of pure terror. He didn’t have a chance to get anything out of his throat, since the fright was too much for his nerves to bear, and he collapsed in the doctor's lap.

The hunter excused himself from the gathering shortly after. You soon followed suit. You weren’t oblivious to the slight shift in his jaw and his overall body language when he saw the newcomer's face.

“H-hey whatcha you doin’ here darlin’?” Martin quickly sounded like his usual self as he saw your shadow casted between the trees, “I’m sure Linda still got a few pieces left of that pie you love.”

“Martin… please”

The man let out an awkward laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m fine! I was just feeling dizzy from all the drinkin’ and—”

“You were clearly not fine when you saw that man.” You cutted him short, not with anger in your voice, but filled with concern.

“You’re right… I did know this guy…”

This situation was a culmination of everything he always feared. He hated it. He hated it so much. He felt like a prey the moment it gets stuck in a trap, it’s mind going into a frenzy while trying to find a way out. Martin couldn’t possibly tell you the truth, but at the same time lying to you would clearly hurt your feelings. God, he wanted to snap that bastard's neck for daring to crash into his life and ruin everything. He was so self absorbed in his own guilt and anger that he failed to notice that your face had softened up.

“I always want you to feel comfortable enough to share things with me.” You walked closer, the milk light of moon coursing through the leaves illuminating your face like an angel sent down just for him, “But you don’t have to share more if you don’t want to yet, I’ll wait.”

Martin stood there, stunned into silence. How did you manage to always make him fall even deeper in love with you with the most simple words and actions?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You don’t know what woke you up first, the incessant turn and stir of Esteban or the moment he ran into the bathroom in a frenzy. Even with the door closed, you could hear the sound of the running water. Worried that he might have woken up sick, you pulled yourself out of the messy blankets. You rubbed your eyes and called his name as loud as your sleepy throat could muster. No answer from him. He either didn’t hear you or hoped you’d give up and go back to bed, but you weren’t going to do that.

Once you opened the door, you were blinded by the sudden light hitting your cornea and so couldn’t see the state Esteban was in. After you got used to the sudden change, you could see him leaning on the sink, his head hanging low. The man knew you were there and still seemed to choose to ignore you. But upon further observation, you realized that he wasn't. He was actually trying his best not to break down in your presence. The subtle shivering of his body and the fact that he had his eyes closed shut made it clear.

“Esteban…?” You repeated softly, scared that speaking any louder would send him into a panic state.

Your boyfriend forced himself to answer, the words coming out breathlessly. “I'm sorry… I-I didn't want to wake you up for something so stupid...”

For the first time since you entered the bathroom, Esteban let go of the counter and faced you. Before you could retort, he trapped you into a tight embrace, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Insects… They w-were everywhere.” He muttered, clearly trying his best to hold back a sob. “Under my clo-clothes, in my ears, in my eyes—“ He stopped himself as a violent shudder coursed through his body.

“It’s okay, I’m here now and they are all gone.” You raised your hand to rub his back in comforting circles, “can you feel my touch?”

He nodded as a slight moan left his lips. You were right. You were here with him, your touch being the only thing he needed to feel grounded again. Esteban felt silly to not have sought solace in you the moment he woke up, as if you hadn't already seen him at his worst.

He just had to make sure that you never leave him and everything would always be okay.

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I’m really proud of my writing in this one 😎 *Pat myself on the shoulder* I hope you guys liked it too!

(I didn’t had Jacce since I received this ask before posting his first chapter and this was already getting very very long. 😔)

[zraiusxo]

Part 4 for "A Game of Composure" please. :) I forgot how beautiful works like these are even without smut, I appreciate your writing so much, it's so novel worthy! Made me realize that fanfictions don't need smut to be well written and interesting. You're so underrated, I'm actually so shocked you're not getting hundreds of likes yet. But I wish you the best of luck, I know you're gonna get there some day! <3

♡ aww thank you so much anon! thank you for the kind words. i appreciate it a lot and it motivates me to keep writing! though i started writing on impulse whenever i got high, now i find it enjoyable thanks to you all. hope you like this one, enjoy! :3 ♡ tags: @isolde-zoe @hangesdeadcomrades @owo-teabag @morphids @primaddona-girl ♡ comment if you'd like a tag on my hange fics! also if you haven't yet, read the parts before this. ^^

A Game of Composure ,, Older Hange Zoë x Younger Fem!reader (4)

The evening unraveled like silk, steady and sumptuous, but Hange’s mind was a flurry of static. They hadn’t taken their eyes off Y/N since the moment she entered the room, dressed like some velvet vision in black, drawing men to her like moth to a flame. And even now, after the subtle claim they made by sending the curious businessman away—Hange remained coiled tight beneath the measured veneer.

But Y/N didn’t make it easy.

She never did.

She remained by Hange’s side, yes, but she didn’t hang onto them like a trophy on her arm. She spoke to others when addressed, she smiled at compliments—though never too widely—and she tilted her head and nodded when someone shared a story, that perfectly bored expression feigned just enough to pass as polite. Her elegance wasn’t an affect; it was a natural consequence of her self-possession. It was why Hange couldn’t look away.

They stood together near a stretch of the hall where the chandeliers dimmed to a gentle amber. Soft music floated through the space, and the press of bodies in formalwear moved like a gentle tide, each cluster of conversation shifting rhythmically.

Erwin passed by at one point, giving Hange and Y/N a subtle nod and a ghost of a smile before disappearing again into his own web of connections.

“I’d ask if you’re enjoying yourself,” Hange murmured under their breath, breaking the silence between them, “but you’ve never struck me as the type to do anything so… mundane.”

Y/N didn’t look up at Hange who stared down at her with an intense gaze, instead watching the banquet hall over the rim of her wine glass. “And you’ve never struck me as the type to get possessive.”

Hange’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not possessive.”

She turned towards them, that same maddening calm on her face. “You sent away a man who asked to speak to me. That’s a strange way to spell ‘possessive.’”

Hange leaned against the marble counter lining the wall, arms crossing loosely. “He didn’t want to speak to you. He wanted to flatter you into pretending he was interesting.”

“And you think you’re the exception?” Y/N asked with a raised brow.

“I know I am.”

That earned them a small laugh from her—low and brief, but genuine.

“You’re bold tonight, Doctor.”

“I had a month to think.”

Y/N set her glass down with a quiet clink. Her voice softened just enough to be heard beneath the music. “So did I.”

They didn’t speak for a moment. Hange watched her profile—sharp, serene, achingly young and yet composed in a way most their age never learned to be.

Y/N’s expression gave nothing away, but her hands—slim fingers brushing over the rim of her glass—were too still, too measured.

"You know," Hange began, their voice lower now, "you play this game better than most seasoned politicians."

Y/N’s lips quirked. "I imagine that’s meant to be a compliment."

“It is. It just makes me wonder what you’re hiding under all that control."

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze lifted to the massive chandelier above them, crystals refracting specks of light across her face like fragments of stained glass. When she finally spoke, her voice was composed but deliberate.

“I grew up around individuals who thought power was something to be taken. I learned early on that power isn’t seized—it’s given. And people give it to the ones who don’t ask for it. They give it to the quiet ones. The ones who never seem to need anything.” She started.

Her sharp piercing eyes turned to Hange, tilting her head to the side slightly. “But wanting, that’s a different thing.”

That made Hange pause.

The answer was unexpected. Not because it was eloquent—Y/N was always that—but because it rang with something they rarely heard from her: honesty.

A revelation wrapped in velvet. Hange hummed, observing her again, but this time differently. As if the mask had slipped, even for a moment.

“I see,” Hange said, their tone more serious now. “So you let people see what they want to see.”

“I let people think they see something,” she corrected.

“And what do you think I see?” Hange asked.

Y/N turned toward them, her sharp eyes calm but unreadable. “I think you want to see what’s underneath. I think you’re smart enough to know it’ll take time. And arrogant enough to think I’ll let you.”

For once, Hange didn’t have a clever response ready. The air between them felt charged, thick with something heavier than flirtation.

“And if I’m patient?” they asked eventually.

“Then you might just see what they don’t,” she countered. “But you’ll have to stop sending men away like some territorial animal.”

Hange chuckled, shoulders relaxing. "Noted."

Before anything else could be said, an unwelcomed voice cut in.

“Miss L/N.”

They turned to see Marie approaching.

Of course.

She looked pristine as ever—her emerald green gown tight across the bodice, her jewelry understated but expensive. Her smile was far too polite.

“I was surprised to see you again,” Marie said, eyes flitting briefly toward Hange before settling back on Y/N with a challenging look in her eyes.

Y/N’s expression remained cool, meeting Marie's gaze with equal intensity. “Yes, I was invited.”

Marie’s voice lowered slightly, just enough to come off as intimidating but loud enough for Hange to hear. “Well. I’m sure your… presence is always appreciated. Especially by the older crowd.”

A small hum vibrated against Y/N's red-stained lips, but didn’t rise to it. “It seems so. Though I’m sure you don’t have to rely on insinuation to be remembered.”

Marie blinked.

A faint smile tugged at Hange’s lips, but they said nothing. This was Y/N’s fight, and she wielded silence like a blade.

Marie continued, undeterred. “You know, some of us worked very hard to build our place here. Years of study, internships, research. Not everyone has the luxury of just… being interesting because they’re young.”

Hange’s jaw tightened. Y/N didn’t flinch.

“That’s true,” Y/N replied calmly. “But not everyone can make people listen without shouting. I suppose we all use what we have.”

There was a beat of silence. Marie’s smile tightened, but she gave a small nod before turning away, heels clicking with restrained fury.

Hange exhaled slowly. “That was brutal.”

“I was being polite,” Y/N said, picking up her glass again.

“You were being surgical.”

Y/N glanced at them. “You don’t like her.”

“She doesn’t like you.”

“I noticed.”

“And the age thing?” Hange asked.

“I expected that too.” She glanced up at them, her gaze sharp but curious. “Does it bother you?”

“Not in the way she hopes.”

Y/N smirked, bringing the wine glass to her already red-stained lips. “Good.”

They stood like that for a while, letting the sounds of the banquet drift around them.

“So,” Hange said at last, voice gentler now. “When this is over, would you let me take you somewhere quieter? Just the two of us. No flattery. No businessmen. No Marie.”

Y/N looked up at them, the smile on her lips slowly fading. “Ask me again when I’m not surrounded by men in thousand-dollar suits.”

Hange chuckled softly. “Got that.”

But the promise hung in the air. And neither of them planned to let it go.

♡ not my favorite because it was super rushed due to me being too busy with my finals and other personal things to come up with something better, had to get high just to write this. can't function without it at this point. but i promise it'll get better! pinky promise. :3

[thoughtsforsoob]

im thinking about y/n fucking CEO yeonjun for a raise

CEO!YEONJUN X F!READER

a/n: hello anon!! thank you for the ask :) I usually wouldn’t write something like this (because I’m a strong independent woman that has tons of self respect) but for yeonjun I’d do pretty much anything 🥰 that’s my man right there. Anyways, please enjoy!!

You had just graduated college not so long ago and you were finally out looking for a job! You managed to secure your first position at your first choice company, working as a software developer! you were so proud of yourself and you were happy to finally be able to be independent and support yourself. You had a small apartment and nice things in said apartment but sometimes, you wish you had a little more money to save and to use to go out with your friends once in a while. hence why, after about 6 months, you go in to have a netting with your boss: yeonjun.

you were nervous about this meeting for a few different reasons. Yeonjun was a really handsome individual. Like…so handsome that he border-lined sexy. How could you possibly think of your boss this way? That’s so wrong! You did your best to avoid him because everytime you spoke to him, your cheeks and ears would go bright red and he could see your shyness.

Now, you were stepping into his office after his receptionist said you could. You took a breath before opening the door and finally walked in. There he was, in his usual fancy work attire, looking sexy as always. He was wearing a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his usual black slacks. He never wore fancy shoes though, always opting for vans or converse that also came in black. That made him a little less intimidating but still, you were no less nervous to speak to him.

He smiled when he saw it was you and other you to take a seat. “Oh y/n, come on in. Take a seat! Would you like anything to drink?” You shake your head no and he looks at you still. “So, tell me what you’re in for today? Is everything alright around the office?” You look down at your hands and then up at him, “yeah, everything in the office is okay. I kinda needed to ask more of a personal question.” Yeonjun nods and you ask your question. “A raise? Well, you have been doing really well. You’re probably one of our best employees.” Your eyes go wide and you smile. “Really? Does that mean you’ll consider a raise? Even if it’s a small one. I kinda need it.” He looks at you and thinks for a second, “well, maybe I’ll consider if you do something for me.” You were curious as to what he wanted so you asked him and you were shocked to hear his answer. “Just have sex with me. I think you’re really beautiful. If you do it, I’ll give you a $10 raise.” Your eyes get bigger at his offer. A whole ten extra dollars an hour??? That would be plenty to save up for that new hand bag you wanted!

you usually had a little more self-respect than this but you couldn't help it. the offer was too good to pass up no matter what you had to do. thats how you find yourself bent over your bosses desk, skirt bunched up at your waist and panties pooling at your ankles. he's standing behind you, teasing you dripping slit with his erection. he's smirking and using his free hand to caress your ass. "so pretty. how did i not ask for this sooner?"

he finally decided to stop teasing and pushing himself inside of you. you whine at the sudden intrustion and he leans over, grabbing one of your hands and intertwing it with his. "its okay, sweet girl. no need to whine. it's not gonna hurt for long." he kisses your cheek and pulls back to his previous position. when you tell him it was okay to move, he finally starts to thrust. he goes gently the whole time and calls you such pretty names. "such a beautiful girl taking it so well. you like this, hmm? when a big, important man treats you nicely?"

he continues his movements until you starts whining to cum. "mm sir...please. wanna-" you were cut off by his groan. "sir? you called me sir? say it again." he sniffle from the tears falling from your eyes, "sir! please!" he groans again and leans over again, getting closer to your face. "cum for me, pretty. wanna see that gorgeous face." with his words, you were sent overthe edge and finally let go. you cry out at the euphoric feeling and yeonjun continues to thrust, pulling out when he's ready to cum. he pumps himself a few more times and cums all over your ass. he smirks when he sees his work.

when you're done, you attempt to put your clothes back on buthe stops you. "hey, what are you doing? let me take care of you." you were suprised by this and turned, "sir, are you sure? you don;t have to do that. i understand if you don't have time for me beyond this." he shakes his head and chuckles, "i don't just have sex with anyone. what if i liked you and wanted to take you on a date? what wold you say?" you look at his eyes and they were sincere. "mm fine. lets go on a date." he smiled and kissed your cheek.

once he finally cleans you up and dresses you once again, he escorts you out of his offce with a wink and his phone number now in your phone.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Hi hi, i wanted to request dadzawa. Maybe he has a daughter that ends up with a weird or terminal illness please. 🌻

His child has a terminal illness

[ PLATONIC HEADCANONS ] [ Aizawa ]

[ My hero academia / Boku no hero academia ]

Where are you going so angsty? ~ Hehe sorry, I may or may not cried a little because of this but that doesn't mean I didn't enjoyed writing it! Thanks for your request <3

Also, anon please remember that i only write for gender neutral! I don't want to make anyone feel left behind!

Aizawa is an incredibly busy man, he is not only a pro hero but also a teacher and yet he tries his best to also be a good father, no matter how he ended up having a family on his own he is not planning to neglect you in any way

Aizawa has done everything he could in order to protect you, from keeping you away from the public eye and making a good support network to make sure you know how to act if you ever find yourself in danger, Aizawa hopes that you will grow safe and happy, is one of his biggest wishes thats why even if he hates the idea of you getting in danger he keeps his feets on earth and makes sure you know what to do if you need to protect yourself

Aizawa may not be direct when showing his care and love but he makes sure you never forget that he loves you incondicionally, thats why he is always looking after you even when he is so busy

Getting to know that you have a illness that would lead you to decease can happen by diferent ways depending if there is any symptoms or if those are dificult to notice, even when if he tries to don't let important things like your health slip from his care there still a posibility that is an illness that simply cant be cured and just can be treated no matter how fast you are to find out

From one side Aizawa looks almost unperturbed by the news, he seems to take it so calm and even talk about what it can be done for you now with the medics in a surprisingly calm way, he acts like the caring and a little strict father he have always being, but in the other side he is completely devastated, he is a hero and yet he can't do anything to be able to save his own child, he may even reproch himself not noticing the symptoms earlier or even not spendinging as much time as he should had with you, depending in how this illness had grew

No matter how much he feels like breaking from the inside his priority it is you, he makes sure you understand whats going on and what you two can do to make your life as easy and painless as posible until the end (also, it may depend on your age but he will try to be as honest as posible since there is nothing it can be done to stop it lying would be useless, even so he tries to be as gentle as posible while talking about it)

In this moment Aizawa would be too focus on being a pilar for you, he wants to protect you from his own feelings so you don't feel guilty, like a burden or anything like that, even if that means puting a brave face while spending his nights crying until he falls sleep. Still at some point he may just open up to you about his feelings if is necesary but he prefers to keep it to himself

As the days pass and you two start to make a new rutine including your new treatment and what you need is when Aizawa will finally be able to relax enough to stop ignoring his own feelings, when it would start to be more obvious how devastated he is to his friends, still he would try to deny and avoid talking about anything for a while until he can't handle it anymore and just understand how important is to share this with the others who are important part of your life too, to his closest friends

Aizawa start to spend more time with you because he doesn't want to not only leave you alone in this but also because he doesn't want to regret anything when it is too late, so he will try to take it easy in his job and pass more time taking care of you (specially if this illness is making you feel pain or even affecting motor skills)

Aizawa tries to avoid making you feel like some kind of weirdo or phenomenon because of what you are going throught, he doesn't make a big deal out of your sickness and just talk about it the necesary and like it is already part of your new normality, part of your new day by day; as well he makes sure anyone who visits doesn't make a big deal out of it neither (specially his own friends, you probably feels worst than how he can feel and he wants to protect you as much as he can)

No matter how much time he is able to have at your side before the illness finally take your life he doesn't really know if he would even be ready when the times come, but, then again, he keeps those thoughts to himself, no matter how old you are to him it won't be correct to let you see him break down (but will make sure you know how much he will miss you and how much he will always love you)

[chaotic-iguana]

Twisted Love

summary: as we know, im a bit of a gremlin. i take ur asks and fucking add my own spin. here we are. its like a “joel edges reader, reader accidentally comes” with SUPER dark twists. let me know what you think. feel free to (gently) yell at me because honestly @breakfastatjoels is the only reason i decided to post (love you dee)

pairing: dark! joel x reader

wordcount: 2.3k

warnings: survivalism, dubcon, dark!joel, edging, dom/sub dynamics, pussy slapping, very out of my comfort zone writing this, stockholm syndrome, this joel is everything husband joel is not. hes a dick please dont acc be in these kinds of relationships, swearing (no bc me being a smartass and adding swearing as if its worse than STOCKHOLM SYNDROME), choking, slapping, passing out and keep going, somno? i think?, dacryphilia, he’s a genuine fucking asshole

A/N: please be warned that this is not a vanilla smut fic, it follows some super dark themes. unlike my other fics, no “soft” joel, or aftercare; no checking in or wiping tears. also forewarning, i do not support relationships that are in fact like this. i am not glorifying sa or abuse. dont want any anons in my inbox tearing me a new one. 

masterlist // navigation

Four hours. You’d been tied to the bed spreadeagle for four hours. Your wrists and ankles had chafed, you’d nearly lost your voice, and you couldn’t seem to stop trembling.

Joel had one hand on your stomach, pressing down, and another between your legs, bringing you to orgasm after orgasm only to pull away at the last second to watch you buck your hips into thin air, chasing friction, as your high ebbed away again. And then he would start again. And again. And again.

By now, you were gone. Your mind had long been wiped clean of coherent thought. Broken moans and whines escaped you as you tried to beg despite having seemingly forgotten the ability to articulate yourself - you could barely manage short gasps of breath in between sobs; words were proving to be near-impossible. 

A dizzying chant of Joel, Joel, Joel, took up your mind as he wrenched his fingers out of you once again, just a second too late to accomplish what he wanted. No; in your desperate, hyper-sensitive state, that split second alone was enough to send you into a  spiral: toes-curling, back-arching and your breath coming in sharp gasps as an orgasm that had your vision whiting out for a few seconds washes over you.

Joel glared down at you, the vision barely registering to you past the buzz of euphoria, eyes rolling back as reality faded away. He gripped your jaw then, snapping you out of the daze by bringing a hand down on your cunt, repeatedly striking the sensitive folds, the painful sting heightened by your orgasm. 

 At the pitiful groans of protest and the way your legs contorted against the bindings to fall into themselves; instinct taking over to protect you from his merciless assault, he rolled his eyes with a huff. 

“Y’gonna be a brat? Be a fuckin’ brat. ‘M not wastin’ my time on a girl that can’t behave.” 

Snapping his switchblade open, he leaned down to rip through your restraints before turning and walking out of the room without another word.

That had been a week ago. You had spent an hour curled in on yourself, numb in disbelief that he’d just left. You hadn’t meant to go against his wishes, your body had just taken over and practically pushed you over the edge. You knew the deal-  of course you did, it was seared into your fucking mind- it’s what kept you alive. 

It was an offer he had spat at you with a blade pressed to your neck, a decree that signed your body over to him. He’d let you live and keep you alive, and in return all you had to do was obey him; be his “good little girl”, as he put it. All you had to do in exchange for your safety was listen to him, do what he told you to. 

A paralyzing fear had gripped you since that day you had accidentally defied him, death looming over your head like a guillotine you couldn’t quite see just yet but knew was inevitably coming. 

You’d hated the arrangement at first, resisting it; resisting him. But once he had made it abundantly clear that there was no way for you to leave, nowhere you could go, you found yourself fighting back less. Life had already been so long, taken so much from you already. You’d never have to worry again. He’d keep you safe. Despite his inherent brutality, he took care of you; more care than anyone else had taken since the world went to shit. He made sure you ate enough, slept in better spots, showers. When you had nightmares, he’d set a bruising pace against you and rut until your head emptied of every thought but his. 

Your disdain for him faded over time, and you began craving him. You wanted him under your skin, you wanted to feel him and nothing else, to be reduced to a mindless mess as damp sheets clung to your skin. Wanted his bites and bruises, wanted his grip on your thighs, your waist, your neck. Slowly, you wanted him. A twisted love characterised by dizzying need for him to rip you apart and put you back together infected your mind. To be with you, hold you, praise you. And you were perfect for him as a result, wanting nothing but to keep him happy. 

He, however, hadn’t so much as looked at you all week. If he said anything, it was bit out in your general direction as an afterthought; an inconvenience. It was like he’d stopped caring where you were, how you were. Pent up and needing him, needing to feel the scrapes of his callouses against your skin, his teeth nipping your flesh, you simply endured it all fearfully. Your arrangement had gone on long enough that you genuinely did not know if he would follow through - but you’d seen enough of what he was capable of not to risk it. You may have your own infatuation with the man, but you weren’t stupid. When he stood jaw clenched, shoulders tense, and with that crazed glint in his eye, you did not speak to him; your self-preserving habit of pointing out his tells blaring at you to run. If you so much as stepped too close to him on days like these, you’d see how blown out his pupils were, how his face was set in an expression that made it difficult to identify him, before he’d pin you to the nearest wall and use his mouth, fingers, cock, blade handle, beer bottle and makeshift toys on you until you passed out, and then he’d keep going until exhaustion overtook him. Which, for a man that size, often took over a day. 

So you settled for trying your best to impress him. Wore that dress he liked, did your hair in a ponytail because you knew it made his fingers itch to tug at it, painted your lips with a shadow of red and just followed him like a lost puppy, without stopping or complaining once. Didn’t matter how many gashes you got on your hands and knees from getting your foot caught on sharp edges or rocks he didn’t warn you of anymore, didn’t matter how hungry or thirsty you were with him neglecting to pass the canteen back to you, didn’t matter how badly his biting comments hurt you or how many tears filled your eyes, you followed him without complaint.  

But it had been a week, and your resolve had started to break. If he was going to kill you, he had to do it now. The buildup, the constant fear, the desperation to impress him, the cuts and bruises now littering your body, the hungry ache in your stomach - they all reached a point where your knees just buckled, and you just couldn’t. Joel was ahead of you, still trudging on without so much as glancing in your direction, not even after the pathetic wail that sounded from you as you fell to your knees. Gasping out his name, wincing at the rasp of your voice from the disuse, you watched his steps falter as he looked at you over his shoulder, and kept walking. 

“No, no, no, please Joel, please.” Tears began streaming down your face, your body shaking with the force of the devastation sweeping through you as you began crawling after him. This made him stop and turn, brow raised and mouth set in a cruel smile as he took in your form. He took slow, deliberate strides to where you lay on the ground, elbows given out, and looked down at you. 

“Please, what?” His dark eyes were glittering as he smirked at you, watching you crumble before his very eyes. 

“No more. ‘M sorry, I’m so sorry I won’t ever go against what you say again. Didn’t mean to come - it just happened n’ I couldn’t stop it. I’ve been so good for years, Joel. I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry.” Cheeks burning hot with humiliation, you could barely meet his gaze as you began begging the man you’d sworn to kill when you first met him. Begged him to take care of you, to forgive you. 

He crouched low, reaching a hand out to tip your chin up and meet your eyes. 

“Need me?” A jeering, boisterous laugh. “Do ya, now?” At your nod, he snorted. “You forget who’s in control -once, just once - I fuckin’ leave you then and there. Clear?” Another nod. “Take what I give you this time.” Not a question, but you find yourself nodding feverishly anyways, making his lips twitch as he grasped you and lifted you into his arms the rest of the way. 

Joel spotted a cabin while trudging through the rough terrain, your hands around his neck and torso flush against his chest as you hung limp in his arms, half-asleep. Deciding to settle there for the night, he barely took a minute to scout the place out before he was making his way to the bedroom. He dropped you onto the bed before turning to strip his flannel and trousers off. Watching you blink in confusion as you started to wake up, he scoffed, tangling a hand in your hair, flipping you onto yoru back, and yanking your head to the edge of the bed. 

Giving you no time to brace yourself, Joel shoved the blunt head of his cock between your lips, working your jaw open as he starting using your mouth. One of hands came to rest on your exposed neck, putting enough pressure to feel himself moving in and out of your throat, while the other gripped the edge of the bed next to your head, intermittently coming up to slap your tits, your stomach, your thighs - anywhere he could reach. The sounds of your garbled choking and gasping filled the room, Joel using your mouth like a fleshlight. 

Refusing you a single second of reprieve to get your breath, he kept rocking his hips until you were lightheaded and there were spots in your vision, consciousness fading. When he glanced down and realised you were about to pass out, he pulled himself flush against your mouth and stayed there, drool and spit spluttering from your nose as you struggled to accommodate him, struggling against him until you blacked out. 

When you came to, you were lying on your stomach, hair still in Joel’s grip and head held back. Your hands were tied to the headboard in front of you with the underwear you had been wearing all day, and his fingers were bruising your waist in his grip as he pounded into you from behind. 

You could feel that you had lost some time. Come and blood streaked all over your jaw, neck and chest, and you could feel some drying on your back, thighs and stomach as well. Moreover, you were drenched. Covered from head to toe in a mixture of blood, sweat, saliva and cum. You could see skin on your chest and stomach swollen and red, broken by his teeth, which had left permanent indents into the flesh. Blinking steadily, you realised that the sun was up, the room bathed in the first few rays of dawn. 

“Welcome back, sweetheart.” His rasp from behind you had a shudder dancing down your spine, straightening up slightly. You could barely sob your response - the new angle had your eyes rolling back, and you could feel yourself being jolted up the bed by the sheer force of his thrusts into you. 

Feeling the muscles of your stomach tense, you hardly had the rationality to start babbling a half-understandable “Gonna cum, ‘m g-mmh-cum,” before feeling him shift his hand on your hip to move it between your legs, swiping over your clit with just enough pressure to bring you to your peak - before he leaned down to snarl into your ear. 

“Don’t come.” At your whimper, he laughed. “Y’wanna live? Be good f’me? Don’t you dare fucking come.” You felt your muscles lock up, a pitiful whine leaving your mouth as you staved off your orgasm, tensing so hard against it that your whole body hurt. Your legs were shaking with the force of holding off, and you felt Joel smile into your shoulder in approval before he moved his arm under your thigh, lifting it as the strength of his hips snapping into yours increased, making you scream when his fingers returned to your folds. 

He reveled in the wails that were piercing the silence of the room, at the force with which you began convulsing in the effort to obey him. Sucking a bruise into the skin behind your ear, he let you suffer for a few more plunges of his tip into your cervix until he felt his own climax fast approaching, uttering a permissive “Come,” until you were gripping him so hard his vision whited out for a few moments. Watching your hand come around to the back of his head, body trembling as you moaned low and near-pained next to him, he stayed inside you for a few seconds before pulling out and stepping into his jeans immediately, watching you collapse onto the bed from overexertion. 

He just reached across the bed to twist a particularly large bruise between his index finger and thumb, savoring your squeak of fear and the tears streaming down your face. 

“Best get cleaned up quick. We gotta lot’a ground to cover today.” And with that, he was walking out again. At least this time, you knew he’d keep you around. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore , @evyiione , @breakfastatjoels  , @millerscoffee dividers by @cafekitsune!! cover by the AMAZING @pedrosaidsheispunk. what a LEGEND. 

[tbyfandoms]

Birthday Blues | Austin Butler x Reader

Pairing: austin butler x f!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: noticing her struggle with the loss and memory of her brother on his birthday, austin helps and comforts y/n with the celebration of his special day (requested)

Warnings: mentions of deceased siblings, descriptions of grief

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: it’s been so long since I’ve updated and I’m so sorry for that. I’ve missed writing so much and hope this is me getting back into my groove. I started this request ages ago but just now finished it. it’s felt so weird rounding out this fic about grief after hearing the news about liam (for any of my fellow directioners) and it’s just crazy to me how so many of the feelings and instances I wrote about in this fic have been a reality lately. I hope you’re all doing well whether you’ve been affected or not, and please remember to keep those you love close and to let them know how much you love them. to the anon who requested this, I hope this fic brings you comfort, thank you so much for requesting <3

Today’s the day. The day you’ve been anxiously awaiting for a while now. Every year it’s the same, it never seems to get easier for you no matter how hard you wish it would.

It’s your brother’s birthday, and it’s been a while since you’ve gotten to celebrate with him in person. He passed away and every year on his birthday you find yourself unable to function properly. Everyone tells you it gets better with time, but you’re still waiting for that to start kicking in.

There are some days where you find yourself so overcome with grief you can’t even find the right words to describe it, and there are other days where for a little while you almost forget he’s not here anymore. You yearn for those days, those days that feel like you’re floating and there’s nothing but calmness surrounding you.

You wish his birthday was one of those tranquil days.

As you move mechanically around the kitchen, doing your normal tasks as you would any other day, you find yourself trying not to fall apart.

Grief is a really funny thing. At times you believe your mourning period has passed and that that part of you that’s now missing has been patched and you’ll be able to handle this day on your own without any consolation. Other times you don’t even know how you’re able to stand up on your own and be expected to continue on. It’s like a balancing act, never knowing which way the scale is going to tip. Calm or devastated. Good or bad.

Pouring yourself something to drink, you think back on all the happy memories with your brother that you can. You know in your heart he wouldn’t want you to be sad today, or any day really. It’s just incredibly hard to not notice his absence, especially on his special day. It’s hard when you miss him so much and want nothing more than to celebrate with him instead of without.

Over the past few days you’ve tried not to focus too much on your brother’s birthday. You’ve kept busy and continued business as usual but you can’t deny the moments of sadness that crept in unannounced. You’ve talked to other family members about it and some of your friends too, a lot of them knowing what this day means to you and how hard it can be. You always keep up a brave face but it’s easier said than done on some days compared to others.

The sound of padded footsteps coming from your right breaks you out of your thoughts. When you turn your head you’re met with the soft smile on your boyfriend’s face. It’s impossible not to reciprocate it. You don’t know a soul on this Earth that’s ever been able to withstand a smile from Austin Butler.

“Hi, baby,” he says as he wraps his arms around you, his warmth and familiar scent immediately settling over you. Your body instantly relaxes against him, comfort beginning to course through your veins.

“Hi, Aus.” It comes out almost like a whisper and you curse yourself for already showing a sign of weakness. You promised yourself last night that you’d try to get through this day on your own, not wanting to distract Austin from any of his work or typical routine. Alas it’s not turning out how you hoped. That’s the thing about grief though, no matter how hard you try, you never do know when it’s going to come creeping back in.

Busying yourself with cleaning up, you ease yourself out of Austin’s grasp. For some reason you feel that if you stay that close to him, it won’t be long before your walls start crumbling down and you’ll both end up wrapped in devastation.

To be fair, you don’t even know if your boyfriend realizes what today is. You know you’ve mentioned it in passing, but with not wanting to make a big deal out of it you never really went into detail. You’ve talked to Austin about your brother before whether it be reminiscing about childhood memories or recalling an inside joke, but you always try to keep that devastation at bay.

The blonde hasn’t said anything about it recently and with his hectic schedule lately, you’re sure it hasn’t even crossed his mind. You’re not hurt by it, if anything you understand and appreciate it. It’s probably best if you handle today alone, in your own way.

A small frown adorns the corner of your lips and you make sure to turn your head so Austin doesn’t notice it. One thing about him is that he’s always able to pick up on your emotions and can tell when something’s wrong. Best plan of action is to just proceed as you normally would. You’re sure the actor has a million and one things to do today, so he should be out the door any minute now and you’ll be able to tackle the day however your head and heart deem fit.

“Are you hungry?” You say as chipper as you can while you start to open up a cabinet, ready to whip up anything your boyfriend would like. “I can make you your favorite or if you have to leave soon I can just make you something to take on the go.”

“No, I’m okay, thank you. I-I’m not working today.” You nearly bash your head into the cabinet door as you hear this. Your boyfriend was practically always working, especially now. So him saying this totally takes you by surprise.

“Why not?” You turn around and face Austin and just based off the look on his face you can tell he remembers what day it is. His eyes are so sincere and you nearly burst into tears because he hasn’t even said anything and yet you know exactly why he isn’t working. Why he most definitely told his manager and whoever else that today specifically was off limits for any meetings or shoots.

“I took the day off. I know I haven’t brought it up lately and you probably thought I forgot, but I know what today is, what it means and how important it is to you. I just wanted to be here with you and to let you know if you need me that I’ll be right here. I won’t let you deal with today on your own, sweetheart.” His tone is soft and he reaches out to caress your cheeks, wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized slipped out in the process.

“Austin I-,” you gulp, emotion rising fast in your throat as you look into his blue eyes and feel the empathy radiating off of him. “You didn’t have to do that. I know how busy you are and I know it must’ve taken a lot to have your day cleared. Really, it’s fine if you want to go to work. I-I can handle it, I’m fine-“

Your voice cracks and in that same moment you feel like part of your heart does as well.

Austin’s hands are tangled in your hair in an instant as he pulls you in close, holding your head against his shoulder as you begin to fall apart in his arms. There it is, one of those grief stricken moments you swore you wouldn’t allow to take over you today. So much for holding it together.

Clearly your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind though, and for that you’ll be eternally grateful. You let yourself go, let your emotions go, as he whispers affirmations in your ear. Softly shushing you and assuring you that it’s ok to let it all out. It’s almost scary how easy it is for you to do this as well. To let yourself be vulnerable like this. But honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way. If you’re going to fall apart in anyone’s arms, there’s no one better than Austin’s to do it in.

After a while of being wrapped up in the blonde’s arms and after your sobs begin to turn into soft hiccups, you feel collected enough to take a small step back and start to wipe away any remaining tears.

“I’m sorry, Aus,” you whisper, feeling a little bad for just falling apart like this. You know he doesn’t mind, he wouldn’t have taken the day off if he did, but even still.

“Hey, hey, hey, do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Austin reaches out and swipes his thumbs underneath your eyes, collecting tears that haven’t yet fallen. “I’m here for you, and if that means being a human tissue for the day then I’m fine with that.”

A small laugh bubbles out of your throat and the sound makes Austin smile. He loves your laugh and he’d do anything to hear it, especially on a day like this.

“I hope you know how much I appreciate you. I know you’re no stranger to grief when losing a loved one, but I still appreciate you taking this in stride and just being there for me. This day it’s-it’s-,” your breath catches in your throat, but you clear it, not wanting your emotions to take over again. “It’s hard, but you certainly make it a lot less difficult to deal with and for that I’m grateful.”

“Of course, baby. I’m here for you, always. When you lose someone you love, it’s difficult enough to deal with, yet alone trying to deal with it on your own. I promise you I’ll always be here for you on this day and every other one you may need me for as long as you’ll have me.”

A small smile breaks out on your lips and you don’t know a better response than wrapping your arms around Austin and squeezing him with all the love and appreciation you can muster. You can’t even imagine a day without him. You’ll have him forever if you’re able to.

Once the two of you break apart you watch as Austin begins to say something, but then appears to hesitate. His eyes meet yours and you start to wonder what it is he wants to say to you.

“Now I don’t ever want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, but over the past couple days I’ve been thinking about what we could do to celebrate your brother today. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to take you somewhere.” The blonde takes a breath and then reaches for your hand, squeezing once before continuing. “You trust me, right?”

You’ve never felt more sure of anything than you do right now in this moment when you say, “Yes, with my whole heart.”

Your boyfriend smiles and you feel your stomach flutter with both gratitude and anticipation for what he has planned. No matter where it is he ends up taking you, you know with one hundred percent certainty that he’s doing it because he loves you and cares for you in a way you never even thought possible. That fact alone is what carries you out of that kitchen and through the front door.

*****

When Austin pulls the car into the parking lot of the flower shop connected to the cemetery your brother is buried in, you feel your heart begin to swell.

On the drive over, you began to brainstorm ideas of where it is your boyfriend was taking you. There was a small part of you that hoped he wasn’t driving you to some restaurant or your family’s house to try and take your mind off today, but that he was taking you right to this very place. In your mind, there’s no better way to celebrate and remember your brother than celebrating with him as much as you’re physically able to.

Not a lot of people find comfort in visiting a grave in a cemetery, but it’s one of the only ways you’re able to feel some sort of closeness to your brother. He might not be visible to you, but there’s something about sitting there and just talking out loud to him that allows you to feel some semblance of peace.

“Now I know everyone feels differently when it comes to visiting graves and doing stuff like this. So if you’re at all uncomfortable being here, you just let me know and I’ll turn this car around, we’ll go right back home, and I’ll apologize for the rest of my life for ever crossing any boundaries with you.”

A breathy laughs escapes you and you shake your head as you reach out and hold Austin’s hand in yours. “No, this is perfect. I very much appreciate you even thinking of doing this. I haven’t been able to come out here in a while, especially not alone, so I’m grateful you brought me here and that you’re willing to be by my side during it.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he smiles.

Austin turns off the car and the two of you make your way inside, the smell of fresh flowers instantly hitting your nose and you breath in deeply, wanting to hold onto it. It’s crazy to think there could be something so beautiful and alive surrounded by a place so sorrowful and morbid. Somehow, you think there’s something poetic to be found in that.

Both you and Austin wander around the shop for a while, taking in all the gorgeous arrangements decorated specifically for different types of family members. You see plaques for parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and then finally siblings. It hurts your heart to know people lose their loved ones in a blink of an eye every day. No one is safe from the horrors and unfairness of the world, but you wish with everything you’ve got that they were.

You wish nearly every day that your brother had been.

As you walk further down the aisle, you find yourself getting stopped by a bouquet. It stands out from the others, it’s almost as if the colors and arrangement of it were calling out to you. One look at it and you know instantly it’s the one you’d like to get for your brother.

“Aus, this one’s perfect,” you say softly, stopping your boyfriend in his tracks. He looks over at it and smiles fondly. He thinks it’s perfect almost as much as you do.

Austin instantly grabs it and the two of you walk over to the checkout counter. You reach into your purse so you can grab your wallet, but the actor holds his hand out and shakes his head. “Let me, for his birthday.”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes at the sentiment and all you’re able to do in response is nod your head slightly and give Austin a wobbly smile. You don’t know why you’re so surprised over all of this. This is who Austin is, it’s who he always has been, and it’s who he always will be.

*****

The gravel road that winds every which way through the cemetery causes the car to shake just slightly as Austin follows your instructions to get to your brother’s grave. You’re not entirely convinced that’s the sole reason your stomach starts to knot though.

Even though it’s been a while since you’ve visited this place, the moment Austin pulled up to the gates it was like you were here just yesterday. The landmarks are all too familiar, the shapes of other people’s headstones, and the view of other grieving families scattered around bring everything back instantly.

As you look around and tell Austin to pull over to the right up ahead, you start to feel a little lightheaded. In your mind you can see the day you buried your brother so vividly. You can hear the sniffles of family and friends and feel the slight breeze in the air as he was lowered into the ground.

Even though you appreciate being able to still somewhat spend time with your brother here, it does make it all seem so much more real. When you don’t come and visit, sometimes you’re able to pretend that he’s still here, still alive. But the minute you see that headstone, you’re reminded that he’s not, and it gets harder to shake the sadness.

Austin puts the car in park and you both sit in silence for a moment. He watches you look out the window, knowing all too well the emotions running through you right now. He gives you a minute more before speaking up.

“Do you want me to wait in the car or is it okay to come with you?” His deep voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you blink several times before looking over at him.

“No, come with me, please? I-I want you there.” Austin nods his head and exits the car, coming over to the passenger side and helping you out of the car as you hold onto your brother’s bouquet.

Grass crunches under your shoes as you walk the few feet to your brother’s grave, and a soft gasp passes through your lips as you come face to face with the headstone that’s seared itself into your mind forever.

Kneeling down, you brush off the small bits of leaves and grass that’ve taken residence on the light gray stone. Your fingers trace over the letters imprinted within it and with each passing letter you feel your heart squeeze inside your chest.

It’s so unfair how life can change so drastically in an instant. You remember the last conversation you had with your brother and you wish you would’ve known that would be the last time you spoke to him. You would’ve said more, would’ve memorized more about his voice and the way he laughed. You would’ve held on to anything and everything you could if it meant keeping even one more tiny thing of him close to you.

Lifting up the bouquet in front of you, you make sure everything in it looks perfect before placing it by the headstone and then standing back up by your boyfriend. The flowers look beautiful and you hate that you can’t physically give them to your brother on his special day. You just hope he’s somewhere looking down at you and seeing how loved he still is. How he’ll always be celebrated.

Suddenly, you feel Austin softly place his hand on your lower back and begin to rub circles on it. This is something he often does when he can tell you’re sad or getting overwhelmed and just need some sort of comfort. It always helps calm you down and you appreciate Austin doing it in this moment.

Austin truly cares so much for you and it blows your mind every single day how lucky you are to have someone like him in your life. Everything from the grand gestures to the smallest little things he does for you, you find yourself being so grateful for it all. He’s such a wonderful guy and you smile thinking about how well he would’ve gotten along with your brother.

You know instantly your brother would’ve adored him. He’d definitely try to play the protective brother card and give off the impression he’d never approve, but in your heart you know Austin would’ve had him wrapped around his finger, much like how he has you. You could see them hanging out and watching sports together, talking about music and films, and overall finding such a genuine friendship within each other.

The thought brings a smile to your face and you let out a small laugh thinking about all the chaos they’d get up to together.

Austin notices and his own curious smile adorns his lips as he wonders what you could possibly be thinking about. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I know you never got to meet him,” you start, a small tear trailing down your cheek as you take your eyes off the headstone in front of you and look towards your boyfriend. “But he’d really like you.”

A small puff of air leaves Austin as he takes in your words. In an instant he has you wrapped in his arms and his lips pressed against your forehead. “Oh, baby. I wish with all my heart I could’ve met him.”

You nod your head silently against him, knowing with everything you’ve got that he genuinely means it.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Aus,” you whisper, your words a soft rumble against the blonde’s chest. “You have no idea how much this means to me. I appreciate it so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me, but you’re welcome. I’d do practically anything for you—especially this—and especially today.”

You know Austin’s unfortunately no stranger to grief. He knows the pain of losing a loved one just as much as you do and you think it’s so kind of him to do all of this with you when you know it probably puts him back in his own memories of loss. The thought alone makes you squeeze him a little harder and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Austin.”

“I love you too,” he smiles. “Y’know if you wanna do this every year for your brother’s birthday, we definitely can. If you want to, that is. I know it’ll never change the fact he’s no longer with us, but maybe celebrating him like this and coming to leave some flowers at his grave every year can help you feel a little bit closer to him in a way.”

“Yeah, I’d really love that. I think he would too.” You smile up at your boyfriend and take in his thoughtful proposition. You’d love to come visit your brother’s grave like this for his birthday every year. Like Austin said, it’ll never change the fact he’s not here with you anymore, but at least it gives you something to hold onto. It gives you something to keep your brother just a little bit closer to you, and you’d do anything to make that happen.

“It’s a deal then,” Austin says before leaning down and kissing you on the forehead. After pulling away he crouches down and plants himself on the grass. “C’mon, no more birthday blues. Let’s sit for a while. I’d love for you to tell me more about your brother.”

Your heart soars at his interest. Most people would want to flee this situation. Get as far away from a place like this and ignore the fact someone’s passed on completely. Not Austin. He faces it head first. He knows it’s hard, but he also knows it can be healing to do and it can mean a lot to someone too. He can tell by the look on your face he’s made the right call, and he’s grateful he’s able to be here for you in whatever way you need him.

“Well, where do I begin?” You wonder as you sit down next to the blonde. You rack your brain and try to decide on what story or fun fact you should share first. God knows you have an endless supply of them tucked away in your memory. Some funny, some sad, and some downright disturbing in the best way possible.

You glance over at Austin, settling on one and as you go to start sharing one of your favorite memories of your brother, you watch as your boyfriend completely tunes in to whatever it is you’re about to say. Nothing else seems to matter in this moment to him and that alone makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let go.

Yeah, you think in your head, in a way speaking to your brother. You definitely would’ve liked him.