#NOT STARING AT THIS PIECE ANYMORE WHATEVER

[losers-clvb]

ICEBREAKER one

pairing: stanford!hockey player!sam winchester x figure skater!female!reader

content: language, slightly ooc sam, smut (semi-public dry humping, dirty talk, semi-public making out)

word count: 3.1k

note: first part, yay, yay!! this was supposed to be a long one-shot fic, but your girl has the 'too much' gene and went all in. so here we are! i hope you like it <33

You didn’t even know why you were at this party. Maybe to numb the stress of school and competition season mixing together, not that you could drink. No, not with the strict regimen your coaches put on the team.

Oh, yeah, coaches, another reason why you shouldn’t be at this party right now. If they caught you here, even if you were simply in the background of a photo, it would be your ass cleaning up the rink after every practice.

God, you couldn’t do this anymore. You needed air. The boom of the music was too loud, the sweat slicking off of your friends’ bodies too sticky.

“Outside!” You shouted to your friend, Lissa, and pointed to the back door of the frat house. She waved you off with a smile, eyes glassing over from the third – no, fifth – cup of… whatever the hell mixture she had concocted in that Solo cup. She was taking full advantage of your status as D.D. for the night.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shuffling through the crowd of twenty-something kids trying to grind on each other. The night air was sharp, soft goosebumps popping up on your bare arms.

Why none of the party goers wanted to be in the calm of the backyard was beyond you, but you were thankful for the quiet. A few questionably clean pieces of patio furniture were out near the almost overgrown grass. You decided the risk of some spider crawling up your leg was worth it and settled into the cushioned seat of a bench.

The crisscrossed green and white of the vines crawling up the pergola's wood-beam walls blocked the visuals of the party and only a stream of muffled music made its way to your ears. You sighed, leaning back and closing your eyes.

The steps of your routine for the first competition flashed behind your eyelids. Spins and flips, especially those that you initially struggled to get down, taunted you, making what was supposed to be a peaceful night very, very stressful.

You hadn't even noticed your mumbling until a voice rang out, cutting through your quiet.

“What the hell is a Biellmann?”

Your eyes shot open, flitting around frantically to find the intruder.

Standing there, with an adorable flop of brown hair, was Sam Winchester. Hockey god, Sam Winchester.

You'd heard of him, seen his face. It was hard to ignore his photographed smile charming you from the walls of the rink every time you went in for practice. You'd never met him, somehow, which made your staring at him very strange, to say the least.

“You good?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows at you with that damn crooked grin he shared with his brother.

The memory of the Wicked Winchesters – named aptly because of their tendency to absolutely crush the opposing team just as the pair of them – snapped you out of your trance. You scoffed, irritation bleeding in to cover the embarrassment of the situation.

“Why are you out here?” You mumbled, raising a brow.

The bite you meant to put in your tone must not have come through, or maybe it did and he just didn't care, because his grin grew wider.

“You want a picture?” Sam asked.

Upon seeing your confusion, he let out a little chuckle and plopped down next to you, making the metal feet of the bench scrape against the concrete.

“You know, since you seem so enamored with my facial features.” He watched your face shift back to irritation.

“Big word for a puck-head.” You grumbled with a roll of your eyes. You sipped on your drink, the lukewarm lemonade doing nothing to quell your attraction to Sam's bicep.

“Puck-head? Who says that?” He laughed, clearly not offended. He slung his arm across the back of the bench, the skin of his arm just grazing your neck. You tried not to shiver at the touch.

“I do.” You defended, turning so you were sitting at an angle, giving you a break from physical touch.

He was attractive. And charming. And tall. And his lips had you wondering what they tasted like. But none of that could matter right now, not when you'd taken a vow of celibacy for your competition season.

“You're somethin’ else, darlin’.” Sam mumbled, eyes grazing over your bare thighs.

Thank you Lissa for forcing this mini-dress onto my body, you thought.

“You never answered my question.” You pointed out, crossing your legs so your dress rode up a bit more. He looked up at you, eyes sparkling.

“You never answered mine.” He tilted his head and mimicked a camera taking a picture.

“No. No pictures.” You answered quickly, then added on, in a biting fashion, “darlin’.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s just hotter when you say it like that.” He licked his lips, sipping on his drink.

“Your turn.” You reminded him, ignoring the urge you had to smile. He sighed and looked around, brown eyes finally landing on you.

“There’s no one out here.” He let his eyes rake down your body. “No one but you, it seems.” His eyes found yours again. You pursed your lips in a small pout, one that had Sam’s eyes twinkling with interest.

“So?” You couldn’t help the sass that invaded your words. Wasn’t Sam Winchester supposed to be partying it up with his buddies over at the keg stand?

“So…,” his head rolled to the side slowly while he dragged the word out, “I need quiet. To focus.”

Your faced screwed up in confusion again.

“Focus? For what?” You couldn’t think of one thing in Sam’s life that required focus. Not that you knew much of his life, but you could guess, for the most part, what it consisted of. Wake up, pound some pre workout, and go bash heads with his teammates.

Sam’s expression of “Really?” made you scoff in annoyance, though you didn’t know if that emotion was made stronger by your intense urge to lick over his throat.

“What could possibly be important enough for you to need focus, Samuel?” You went to sip your drink again before noticing the cup was empty. Apparently you were thirstier than you originally thought.

“First of all, it’s Sam,” he corrected with a grin, “but it’s cute that you know my name.”

“It’s not-,” you began, but Sam cut you off.

“To answer your question, I have a game coming up. Though I’m sure you already knew that, seeing how you seem to know all about me.” He raised his eyebrows, on the verge of laughing.

“I don’t know all about you. Just the basics.” You argued, unable to stop the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Right, the basics,” he said it in a mocking tone that had you pouting again, “like my full name and my skills in bed.”

“I don’t know about your skills in bed.” You immediately defended, not realizing you’d fallen right into his trap until the words were already out. You squeezed your eyes shut in a cringe while he replied.

“Wanna find out?” You could hear that utterly charming annoying grin seeping into his words. You could also feel the little flutter in your gut telling you that his words really were having an effect on you, much to your dismay.

“Stupid pickup line.” You grumbled, fighting the urge – yet again – to smile.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Sam laughed, stretching his hands over his head which resulted in his shirt lifting just enough for you to see a peek of his abs and happy trail.

“Needed some work.” You mumbled, eyes still trained on the newly-revealed skin.

“Maybe you could help me out with it, since you’re so knowledgeable.” He tilted his head a bit, catching your attention. You flicked your gaze up without moving your head, locking eyes with him. He smirked, a crooked little thing that simultaneously annoyed and turned you on.

“See something you like?” It was the cockiness that had you rolling your eyes, not the need to drag your attention away from something other than the hunk of man in front of you.

“Why do you need to focus for this game? Isn’t it easy? Puck-in-net, game over?” You asked, trying to change the subject. It seemed to work.

“Oh yeah, real simple stuff. That’s why we get a bigger budget than you guys.” Sam’s comment surprised you. He knew who you were then, just as you had.

“No, you get a bigger budget because the budget office gets a hard-on for guys beating on each other.” You didn’t even notice you relaxing back against the bench, Sam’s arm grazing your hairline again.

“You think a bunch of twirling deserves more money?”

“It’s not just twirling. Do you know how hard it is to land some of those moves? No, because you look out on the ice and see a big playground for caveman punching.” You were being completely unfair and you knew it. That fact didn’t stop the wash of excitement at the chance to fully argue with someone. It’d been a while since you clicked with someone like this, especially someone as hot as Sam.

“You keep insinuating that we’re dumb.” He raised a brow. “Is that what you think?”

That flustered you.

“Well, I…,” you tried to collect yourself, “I’ve heard things. Things that add evidence to my thinking.”

“I’m pre-law.” Sam told you, giving you a short nod to further push his point. “Dean – I assume you know him too, gorgeous – he’s majoring in kinesiology. We’re not dumb.”

You blinked at him, a small frown forming on your face that Sam wanted to kiss off.

“I…,” you attempted to think of another defense. You couldn’t. This was one of the very rare times you were wrong. “You’re right. You’re not dumb.”

Then you remembered the point at hand.

“We don’t just twirl out there.” You huffed, scooting closer. Your knees were touching the denim fabric of his thigh now. “It’s really calculated stuff, Sam.”

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged, chugging the rest of his drink and setting the cup down on the cement patio. “Just wanted to see how fired up you would get about it.”

You made a small noise of annoyance, though the smile creeping onto your face betrayed it.

“You’re insufferable.” You grinned, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. Sam’s eyes dragged to the movement like a magnet to metal.

“Big word for a ribbon-head.” Sam mumbled teasingly.

“Ribbon-head?”

“See how ridiculous it sounds.”

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep from smiling too wide. Your fingers slowly moved, on their own accord, from your dress to his thigh, tracing lazy circles into the fabric.

“It was a bit ridiculous.” You admitted. You felt the pressure of Sam’s arm falling to rest on your shoulders. It wasn’t heavy, at least, not as heavy as you were expecting. Comforting and sexy were better words to describe it.

“I’ll let it slide, alcohol impairs my judgement too.” He nodded at your abandoned cup.

“No alcohol. That was all me, unfortunately.” You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes playfully. “I actually stick to my athletic contract.” You tapped his empty cup with the toe of your shoe.

“Mmm, me too, pretty girl,” you ignored the shiver that crept over you at the pet name, “it’s that shitty powdery stuff Delta Phi calls ‘lemonade.’”

“It was pretty bad, wasn’t it? The cafe down the street from my apartment makes theirs homemade, every morning. That is lemonade.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to share this information with him, but it felt right.

“Maybe you could take me some time, let me buy you a cup of it.” Sam shifted a bit closer to you.

You should have rolled your eyes again, maybe told him that pickup line was worse than the last. Instead, you gave him a slight smile.

“Maybe I could.”

Your eyes locked with his. The leaning of your body closer to him was something you were doing unconsciously, just needing to be closer to him. Sam watched you with interest, tongue darting out to lick across his lips.

“No sex.” You mumbled, leaning in closer. Your heart leapt at his soft chuckle.

“What kind of man do you take me for?” His lips were inches from yours, so close you could smell his breath – a mix of mint and that God-awful lemonade that had you wanting to taste him.

“I mean it. I don’t hook up during comps.” Your hand slid up his chest – pure muscle under your touch – and rested on his shoulder. His hand found your hip, pleasure sparking where his fingers gently gripped you.

“Yeah, I got that, sweetheart.” His words were mumbled onto your lips, skin brushing skin. You figured one more reminder of that would be overkill, especially with your resolve slowly breaking down with every second that passed.

You kissed him, soft and slow, savoring this moment with him. Sam’s grasp on you tightened slightly when a whimper hummed from your throat, motivating you to kiss him deeper. You slowly crawled onto his lap with his assistance.

He nibbled softly on your bottom lip and you granted him access to your mouth, parting your lips just enough to let him in. Your mind was fuzzy from the simple high of being near him, but one thing you could be certain of, that stupid lemonade tasted much better when you were licking it off of his tongue.

With your knees settled on either side of his thighs, you slid your hands up to tangle your fingers in his hair, earning you a hum from him. Your dress rode up with your position, the fabric bunching up where Sam held your hips.

He shifted, settling into a more comfortable position, and that's when you felt it. The seam of the front of his jeans brushed against your clit through your panties. A noise, just a small whimper that you tried to force down, tumbled out, making Sam smirk against your lips.

When you experimentally rolled your hips with another noise, he pulled away, breathing heavy.

“Thought you didn't do hook ups.” He pointed out, even as you rocked down into him again. You let out a shaky breath, fingers tugging at his hair gently.

“It's not sex if our clothes stay on.” You panted. If that logic had worked for your strict-Christian freshman year roommate, then it would work for you as well. A grin cracked across Sam's face.

“I like the way you think.” He said approvingly before diving back into the kiss. You gasped into him when he thrust his hips up into you. Somehow he knew the exact angle that rubbed against you perfectly.

“Fuck.” You groaned, tugging on his hair to get him closer. He tilted his head up, pushing his tongue against yours.

You couldn’t think. The only thing buzzing through your brain at a million miles an hour was SamSamSamSamSam. This was better than alcohol. His taste had you floating, light as a cloud. His touch set you on fire, sparks dashing wherever he made contact.

Maybe you could give in. One last night of sex just to feel more of him. It wasn’t as if the rule was necessarily mandatory. You’d just lived by it since hearing it boasted about by your team’s former captain – the girl you’d replaced when she moved on to the national team.

No. Fuck, you didn’t want to be one of those girls that only needed a bright smile to make them forget their standards. You were better than that, more disciplined. You couldn’t throw everything away for one night of bliss.

You’d let Sam take you out on a date before you spread your legs for him.

You moaned against his shoulder at the idea, your mouth falling open against the cotton of his hoodie. He kept a grip on your hip, but his other hand splayed across your back, gently holding you close.

“Are you going to come, pretty girl?” Sam’s voice was smooth and confident, like he knew he had control over the situation despite you being on top.

“Yes,” you breathed out, airy and desperate. Your hips kept rocking, faltering a bit the closer you got to release. Sam picked up the slack, thrusting up into you steadily.

“Do it,” he growled, hand flexing against you. “Come for me.”

You weren’t looking for permission, yet the moment he gave it, you felt yourself unravel. You bit down on his hoodie, trying to keep yourself from being too loud as you came, a low, long moan that morphed into a whine dragging from your throat.

Sam grunted, pulling you closer.

Ecstasy washed over you, numb pleasure rinsing away any stress you had ever felt. You slumped against him, letting yourself just be limp for a few moments. It was quiet again, the best kind. Heavy breathing, hitching when either one of your bodies shifted, filled the space.

“Didn’t know you could get prettier,” Sam mumbled, cradling you close to him, “but, holy shit, you’re drop-dead gorgeous when you come.”

You lifted your head, looking him in the eye with a tired smile.

“I’ll let you fuck me,” you held back a laugh at the surprise that morphed over his face, “if you buy me that cup of lemonade I was promised.”

Sam gave you a goofy grin, one that should’ve told you trouble was the only thing he was going to give you.

“I’ll buy you a gallon of the stuff if that’s all it takes.”

“You’re a dog.” You pretended to be annoyed, rolling your eyes. You were used to him at this point, comfortable with him to a point that was strange when you remembered you had just met the man less than an hour ago.

“Woof woof.” He replied, slapping a sloppy kiss on your cheek. It was so casual, like you two did this all the time. You laughed softly pushing off of him just as the sliding door leading to the house slammed open.

“Are you out here, babe?”

Lissa. You could tell it was her, even with the words slurred so close together they were barely coherent. You spun on your heel, smiling at her when she stumbled around the corner.

“There you are!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up. You held your breath when she wobbled on her heels. “It's so boring here. Time to go.”

everything taglist : @littlesoulshine @sacr1ficialang3l @blossomingorchids @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @mostlymarvelgirl @missus-ackles @tinas111 @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

sam winchester taglist : @hobiespick @xoswiftieprincess @whothefvckami

icebreaker tags: @gigiwritess

[swordgrace]

❝ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. ❞

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: john walker x fem!reader.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, (mdni), porn without plot, established relationship, lots of dirty talk, breast play, making out, biting, john walker’s praise kink, prone bone, unprotected p in v sex, creampie. sweet ending.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: yeah I’m not even sorry for being debauched anymore !! this is filth with a soft ending. this lowk got me biting my knuckles during the writing process so ,,, I hope you all enjoy! 🫶

Inky black paints the skies above the Watchtower, New York cityscape a canvas for thousands of stars. It’s a quiet night, a rarity that doesn’t seem to come very often, but you accept them whenever time allows.

Water trickles from the faucet in John’s bathroom, accompanied by the rhythmic noises of a toothbrush being scraped over teeth.

If it weren’t for trying to keep your relationship private for the sake of the team, you would’ve already relocated to his room. However, there’s still some thrill you get in sneaking over once it’s dark like a teenager.

Pinned beneath his sheets, you’re perfectly content to observe from your perch, gaze tracing over raw, sinewy muscle, over yellowing bruises.

He isn’t chiseled or godlike in the way that Bob is, but he’s real, physique attained from years of hard work, of pushing himself to the brink. Broad shoulders are smattered with light freckles, biceps flexing; you don’t stop staring.

John stopped wearing a shirt to bed, clad in a pair of plaid boxers that kissed the center of his thighs. He’s leaning over the sink, spitting a wad of arctic mint into the basin, washing it out with a swig of water.

The sight of this, of him bare and vulnerable, is inherently domestic, a life that you never envisioned for yourself. Something stirs within your belly, mere embers preparing to rage into flames.

His shirt hangs loose over your frame, still alive with his scent, a heady mixture of now-stale cologne and something husky.

When he turns, he catches your gaze with a lopsided smirk, cocking an eyebrow as you sheepishly turn away. You’ve been together for months, and you’re still acting a little bashful — he thinks it’s cute.

He used to convince himself that roughness was the only path forward — that being sharp, uneven like tilled earth, was how he needed to be. You’d convinced him otherwise, and he was grateful.

“You’re not subtle,” John echoes, switching off the bathroom lights before coming to join you in bed. He doesn’t crawl beneath the sheets, hands seizing your hips. “C’mere.”

“John!” You gasp through a mouthful of giggles, flesh crawling with heat as he drags you to him, pinning you against his chest. Face-to-face, he plants a kiss against your jaw, gaze softening.

Tangled in an amalgamation of limbs, you perch against him, letting your weight sink down as you trace circles over his collarbone. “God,” He murmurs, reverent. “You’re gorgeous.”

Behind closed doors, the swagger and temperamental smugness dissipate, leaving just John; he’s significantly softer in private. Whatever facade he wore before seems to drop, and it’s just the two of you — no bravado.

With a lackadaisical smile, you preen beneath his words, lashes kissing the skin beneath your eyes. His hand cups your hips, digits skimming over slivers of exposed flesh.

John stares at you; you’re grounding, an anchor that he never imagined needing. Irises glisten with affection, with a tenderness he still feels undeserving of, but he’s let that go.

He exhales when your hand cups his jaw, thumb tracing over the scruff of his beard, digits mapping his visage as if he’s a constellation. “You’re so perfect.” As the words rush from your mouth, he shifts beneath you.

He doesn’t feel perfect; he’s never felt remotely close to anything other than a fraud, a shell of a man, but you’ve helped him pick up those pieces.

John doesn’t define himself by past actions and merit anymore — he can’t. Inadequacy is the biggest chip on his shoulder, and he’s still learning to let that go. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have changed.

A light huff escapes him, brows drawing together as he squeezes your hip. “Should be telling you that.” He sighs, lips twitching into a threadbare smile.

“Nothing’s stopping you, Walker.” Cheeky, you happen to wriggle closer, bridging the gap between mouths. Lips connect in a soft kiss, something tender; it makes his head spin, brain filled with static.

Through his mouth, his smile remains, a faint upturn that you feel between kisses. You’re still partially on top of him, slotted against his thigh, feeling his hands become emboldened through touch alone.

John’s chest blossoms with a stinging sigh, sharp, attempting to rein in the myriad of crass thoughts that float through his head. It’s difficult with your body against his, touching him as if he’s the only thing worth your while.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.” He challenges, though it’s exceedingly weak. To your delight, you’re prepared to follow through, lips stilling against his.

Sitting upright, your expression is one of incredulity, a smile finding its way to your mouth. “You started it,” A flimsy excuse, at best. “You started it as soon as you pulled me in.”

He lifts a hand in faux defense, blonde brows pinching together, chest erupting with a huff of laughter. “Not guilty.” John retorts, albeit playfully before watching you crawl away, laying beside him with a cheshire grin.

“You’re ridiculous.” You’re breathtaking when you smile; and John knows that it’s all for him. He covets that, a sacred look shared between lovers, knowing you’ve got him pinned.

In the still silence that falls between, John’s countenance glows with a beam, chest shaking with a huff of laughter. “Right — ridiculous.” He lulls, drawing out each syllable, grunting as he shifts to move on top of you.

His weight ghosts above, a warm pressure that sends butterflies surging through your belly. Bullying your legs apart, he’s perched on his forearms, staring down at you through a half-lidded glower.

The intensity of his gaze pierces through you, sharp and poignant, heat beginning to slither over your limbs. Wordlessly, he bends to kiss you, scruffy mouth claiming yours.

Something charged lingers within his lips, something hungry, as if he’s telling you what he wants without verbalizing it.

When your palms snake to settle over his biceps, caressing him as if he’s something precious, it all feels so raw. He doesn’t bristle at the softness like he used to — he embraces it.

Kissing him stitches your heart together in ways you never thought possible, mending years of a self-inflicted isolation.

He kisses you hoarse, hot and messy, like dry kindling catching fire. Arousal creeps between your thighs, damp and incessant, causing you to shift beneath him.

“John,” You sigh, shivering as teeth languidly scrape over your bottom lip, tempting you. The growing swell of his cock presses through the linen of his boxers, firmly slotted over your clothed core. “Please don’t tease me.”

Much to his embarrassment, it never takes much for him to get riled up, erection rutting against your groin, friction spreading like wildfire.

Through an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue wets your bottom lip, foreheads nestled together, his heart singing in his ears.

One hand shifts to snare within the hem of your shirt, dragging it toward your ribs, fingers tracing up until he gropes your breast. He’s kissing you as if he’s trying to win, ripping air from your lungs.

Your hips urge forward, and as if to torment him further, you’re grinding into his cock, pulling a husky groan from his chest. Hands rake to the nape of his neck, fisting into blonde tresses.

The rough pad of his thumb circles your nipple, gooseflesh erupting beneath his touch. It only furthers the ache that screams between your thighs, slick with a familiar heat.

Mouths continue to clash, a mess of lips and teeth, tongue when John initiates it, eliciting a moan from your throat. Passion overrides everything else, ardor replacing logic.

“Christ, you’re drivin’ me crazy.” He pants into your mouth like a dog in-heat, and it all seems to escalate with a fervent intensity. His Georgian drawl slithers in when he’s wound up tight.

“John, shit — do something about it.” It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, your wanton remark — but it did, and he’s reaching to tug at your panties.

Serum-infused blood pumps through his veins with a renewed fervor, and instead of sliding them down your legs as he’s done many times before, he grips, grips tightly. “Hope you aren’t attached to these.” He growls into your ear.

His guttural snarl makes you want to press your thighs together, stopped by his musculature, and your eyes go doe-eyed, wide. Digits flex into the cotton material and pull, stitches ripping as he tears the fabric right from you.

A gasp rips through your diaphragm, coupled with shock and awe as he kneads into your breast, rolling your nipple between thumb and forefinger. “J—John!” You moan, feeling his lips wrap around your chest.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re hoarse.” John gruffs against your flesh, and you’re squirming, body buzzing with a teeming him. You’ve never heard him talk like that, but he’s thoroughly and utterly razed.

Needy lips harshly suck at your unattended breast, edged with the graze of teeth. You shiver, back arched, flesh crawling with heat, eyes half-lidded as you scrape your fingers over his scalp.

The floral scent that permeates your skin sends him into a near-frenzy, a smell he’s grown accustomed to. He gropes at your tits, kisses, bites — tension coils in his shoulders, and he wants a release.

“Turn over.”

He isn’t asking you, either.

Dizzy, your muscles feel molten, as if you’re going to melt right through the mattress. Eyelids twitch, your jaw unhinged, pushing a sharp gasp through your diaphragm.

As if to accentuate his command, his lips nip at your sternum, pinching at your nipple with enough stimulation to make you whimper.

He’s grabbing a pillow somewhere from the left side of the bed, relinquishing his weight from you, allowing you to roll over onto your stomach. John kindly manhandles you into place, shoving the pillow beneath your hips.

His name cascades from your mouth like a prayer, anticipation crawling through your spine. He walks a fine line between domineering and passionate, as if he’s solely in control, but you know how easy he falls apart, too.

Fabric shuffles behind you as he discards his boxers, reddened tip of his cock prodding against your slick cunt. It makes you shiver, his breath hot beside your ear.

Weight bears down on you again, more similar to a warm blanket, chest flush as he presses into your back. He’s so much larger, face just behind your own, hands locking in over yours.

The sensation of fingers intertwining sends another spike of liquid heat through your belly, cunt aching for him with desperation. “So wet for me,” He pants, teeth nicking the shell of your ear. “Jesus, you’re so pretty like this.” The grit in his cadence makes you throb.

John’s got a mouth, sure, but he’s never used it like this, torturing you with dirty praise that makes you writhe. As if to tempt him, you push yourself against him, cunt grinding into his cock.

“J—John, please …” He’s got you broken, thoughts scrambled, liquefied in the wake of crass murmurs. You’re undeniably soaked, flesh tingling, body craving him as if he’s air.

The tip of his cock rubs along your pussy, and you’re debauched, nails curling into the sheets, flexing against his fingers. Prone beneath him, he huffs, forehead nudging into the back of your neck.

With a forward motion, he pushes his hips into yours, cock meeting mild resistance. His actions are disarmingly sluggish — you expected something feral and rough, but he does the opposite.

He’s groaning into your skin, planting kisses there when he isn’t making noise. A moan shakes your chest, drawn-out and wanton, a sound that’s sure to be embedded into his mind for days to come.

The position forces you to feel every inch of him, and he’s infuriatingly well-endowed. His cock kisses your walls, cunt clenching pathetically around him the further he goes, bodies now entangled.

“F—Fuck, John,” Slurred, you’re drunk on your own desire, brain fuzzy with static, mouth slack to make room for throaty moans. “God, you fe—feel so good, please!”

John’s voice tapers off into a husky moan, the praise driving him crazy, and it’s almost enough to get him under control. “Jesus, takin’ me so well.” He roughs, kissing just beneath your ear.

The tightness of your cunt drives him to the brink of madness, huffing beside your ear, teeth grazing over your jaw. He’s growling, panting, his sounds mirroring that of a feral dog instead of a man.

As he fully hilts inside of you, cock bottoming out, he squeezes at your hands, mouth flush to the nape of your neck. There’s a second to adjust, the both of you lost within the haze of ecstasy.

Drawing his hips back, cock halfway gone, he pushes back in — deep, sensual. There’s a significant lack of roughness, but he doesn’t do anything in half-measures.

“Feel s’good, perfect,” Through a string of needy whines, you try to push your hips back against him, but the prone position makes it difficult. The pressure of his body is grounding, dizzying. “You feel so good.”

It’s an incoherent mess of babbles that leave you, singing his praises, and he buckles. That validation and praise he craves from you brings him to heel, brows pinched together.

“Keep talking, honey.” John groans, kissing a messy, wet string of kisses over your shoulder, finding a rhythm that makes your head spin.

Each thrust of his hips sends him deep, cock nearly kissing your cervix. Each ripple of your cunt makes him shudder, the sensations nearly overwhelming — all-encompassing, consuming.

“You — Shit, you fuck me so well,” The words feel foreign in your mouth, but it barely registers, emerging as heated whines. It makes him growl into your shoulder, teeth gently biting at sensitive flesh. “John, please, please.”

John’s reply was another snap of his hips, cock pounding away at your aching cunt. Each thrust is passionate — he wants you to feel everything, feel what you do to him.

He’s fucking you as if it’s the last thing he’ll do, grunts resonating beside your ear, breath hot as it tickles the nape of your neck.

As good as it feels, you wish you were looking at him — the image is drenched in sin, the one you conjure up. Each moan that keens from your lips is answered with a roll of his hips, cock working you open, kissing your cunt.

Scarlet clings to John’s features, handsome and pink, jaw strained as if something might shatter. He’s grunting, warm baritone slipping off into a half-moan when your thighs clench together.

Each slap of his cock lewdly urges against your slick cunt, arousal thick and honeyed around him, making everything easier.

The pillow pushed beneath your hips lets you take the brunt of his thrusts, his groin grinding near your ass, bodies sticky with perspiration. He exudes heat like a furnace, making you sweat.

Ecstasy builds, twined around his muscles, constricting him in some blinding haze. “You’re mine,” The snarl he lets out sends shockwaves through your cunt. “My girl.”

John is naturally possessive, and when he lets his claim fly between messy kisses to your shoulder, it sends you into overdrive.

“M’yours,” Receptive, you feel him fuck into you again, pace still bordering between sensual and vigorous, cock hitting new depths. “Fuck, John — so good at this.”

Your wanton praise goes straight to his head, fueling that subservient side to him that hungers for your attention. It’s more than enough to inflate his pride, and he releases one of your hands.

Beside your head, one hand remains interlocked with his, the gesture disarmingly tender between lewd clashes of bodies. His palm slides over your shoulder, slow, caressing until he finds your waist.

His thumb traces circles into the silky skin there, ministrations never slowing — his pace remains unwavering.

John shudders at the feeling of your cunt, tight and warm around him, clenching around his cock with each roll of his hips. Pleasure mounts within him like a white-hot coil, burning through his belly.

You sob from the pleasure, ecstasy shooting through your body as if you’ve been struck by lightning, arousal seeping from your cunt.

It’s all flesh against flesh, accompanied by a cacophony of groans and whimpering, and you’re rutting into the pillow pushed beneath your hips.

The friction is stinging, lungs burning with each breath you take. “Keep going, please.” You sigh, delirious with desire, any shred of coherency surrendered to him.

John’s a good soldier — obedient, and he’s certainly not one to defy your command when he’s deep in your cunt. He’s rutting into you, passionate and needy, pleasure surging through his veins.

Muscles coil around you, and he’s caging you in between his body and the mattress, grunting when your cunt clenched around him.

His palm drags over your ribs, calloused flesh meeting your silky skin, and he’s head over heels. He can’t think straight anymore, logic thrown out the window, abandoned — you’re all he wants, all he sees as he thrusts again.

It’s a blissful rhythm, the best you’ve had, a constant rut of urging hips and a mouth that wanders over the juncture between throat and shoulder.

He bites softly, pulling a moan from your lips. “Christ, you’re perfect like this.” John gruffs, beard scratching ragged over your flesh, leaving you tingling all over.

He’s getting close, feeling the occasional spasm of your hips as you grind into the pillow, pushing against him as best as you can. You moan his name, again and again.

The pace of his thrusts seems to increase, jackhammering at your cunt when he’s pushed closer to the edge. You clench around him as if you’re sucking him in, and he’s enraptured.

It’s everything — it’s his mouth, teeth, body blanketing yours, hands intertwined, cock fucking you deep — you’re not going to last much longer like this.

“Close, m’close.” Panting, your diaphragm burns with labored breaths, muscles like jelly, body succumbing to his vigorous, sensual thrusts. Bliss festers within your belly, screaming.

Daring to lift your head, you decide to look — the sight is nothing short of mesmerizing, sinful.

Wisps of blonde hair stick to his temples, brow glittering with sweat, countenance contorted into an expression of sheer bliss. His jaw is locked, eyelids nearly shut, looking as if he’s just glimpsed the holy ghost.

Part of you wished you’d been treated to the picture of him all along, flushed and pink, handsome without a drop of effort. He’s even prettier when he’s fucking you hoarse, exertion poured into pounding away at your cunt.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” John rasps, throat thick with desire, coarse as he feels himself slipping over the edge. “Fuck, I can’t — Goddamn …” There isn’t any warning, but you don’t care in the slightest.

Every thrust is sharp, precise — he’s gritty, perspiration glittering along his neck, muscles pulled taut. John sucks a hickey into whatever flesh he can reach beside your jaw.

His cock pulses, throbbing incessantly inside of you as he snaps forward again, groaning beside your ear when he hits his peak.

It sets off a chain reaction — white-hot bliss, a buzz shaking your nerves, brain humming with static. Any coherent thought is promptly scrambled, tossed aside.

John’s forehead rests just behind your ear, hot breath curling over your throat, still hilted inside of you when he cums.

There’s something messy about it — reckless, incendiary, rapturous. He doesn’t pull out, fucking you full with his cum. Warmth floods your insides, crescendoing into your own release.

With another light grind against the pillow, friction grating right to your core, you moan, clutching onto his hand like a vice. Bitten by ecstasy, you feel like you’re floating, the coil within your stomach unfurling.

It’s as if you’ve been washed in fire, flesh feverish, the heat so intense you nearly collapse. He ruts through your shared release with sensual, sluggish rolls of his hips.

Ripples of bliss shoot through your veins even still, seeing stars through closed eyes, thighs quivering like leaves. John’s chest breaths ragged with each sigh, as if he’s exhaling fire, brows still furrowed together.

Entangled moans finally simmer down, tapering off into stinging huffs, exhales pushed through his nose. He presses a string of kisses over the back of your neck, to the top of your spine.

In the afterglow, it’s hushed — you’re catching your breath and so is he, feeling him stay inside of you for a few moments longer.

“You okay?” John murmurs, wondering if he’d pushed it too far. Roughened fingertips trace over your side, coming to affectionately squeeze your hip. “I didn’t take it too far, did I?” He asks, concerned.

Smiling to yourself, you’re flustered, feeling his cum and yours cool over your cunt, the ache diminishing into a dull pulsation. “No, no,” You soothe, feeling his mouth on your throat. “I’m really good.”

John nods, planting another kiss to your jaw before he reluctantly pulls out, leaving behind a mess of fluids that paint your inner thighs. The sensation is sticky, exceedingly wet.

He grunts, moving off of the bed to get you a towel — and new panties. The remnants of your undergarments are in scraps somewhere on the floor, you realize.

You lay there, razed, limbs feeling molten, as if the bone has turned to liquid. A pleasant buzz hums through your veins, breathing beginning to steady as you roll onto your side.

Framed by the golden glow emanating from the light above his headboard, he’s stunning — shadows accentuating raw muscle, body a canvas for yellowing bruises and fading scars.

Even afterwards, he’s exceptionally sweet, a natural caretaker as he brings you a towel and a pair of underwear you’d left in his room prior.

“Thanks.” You smile, awkwardly shuffling to clean yourself up a little bit, sliding on a dark, spandex pair of panties. Readjusting your shirt, you toss the towel into a dirty basket.

“You’re so beautiful.” John murmurs, retrieving his boxers, tugging them back on as he joins you in bed again, looping you into his side. His arm wraps around your hips, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

Smitten, you crawl closer, head nestling against his shoulder as your fingers trace over his chest. Hands intertwine somewhere over his heart, dog-tags hanging beside his collar.

“You’re cute like this,” You hum, and he scoffs instantaneously. “You are, John. You’re really sweet when you want to be.” He takes the compliment to-heart nonetheless.

Lips mold together, the kiss wonderfully tender, enough to make him melt beneath you. John savors it all, letting it linger, hand tracing the soft curve of your hip. “Cute, huh?” He utters, husky.

“Very.” Soft, your cadence quiets, leg hitched over his hips, anchored to his side, oozing with warmth. You keep the sheets off for now, letting him cradle you, hold you tight.

He laughs; a flash of pearlescent teeth, bleeding with a charm that makes your stomach erupt with butterflies. “Don’t tell the rest of the team about this.” John grouses, feeling your lips smooth over his cheek.

“They already know, John.” You hum, feeling his body jostle with a huff as he caresses beneath your shirt, palm dragging along the small of your back.

John doesn’t seem perturbed; if anything, he’s happy — content, even. “Your fault.”

[revelboo]

I bet Brainstorm would have fun making candy for humans once he figures out the process is basically tinkering around with a chemistry set and various saccharides. But then who would be the brave soul willing to taste-test his concoctions... someone would have to tell him that rust flavor is not very appetizing to most Earthlings.

He’d be so offended if he went to the effort only to be told it was nasty or inedible

Candy

Brainstorm x Reader

• Doodling on his datapad since he’d left it out unsupervised and unlocked, you’re aware that Brainstorm’s been playing mad scientist with chemicals for a while now. Occasionally referencing another datapad he’d gotten from Ratchet. You have no idea what he’s up to, but the fact that he’s muttering to himself he’s so excited? You’re fairly sure he’s probably making a bomb. Skin prickling when you don’t hear the clink of glass on metal anymore, you look up and he’s staring at you while holding a tray of unnaturally bright, crystalline shapes. “Whatever that is, no,” you blurt.

• “I go out of my way, bend my intellect and skills to something so far beneath me as to be laughable, all to make you a treat and this is the thanks I get?” He growls looming over your little spot on his lab counter and his optics slide from you to his datapad. And the four legged animal you’ve drawn with his head. Charming. Rumbling in annoyance, he fumbles with the tray when you dart across the counter. Running from him. “Get back here! I made candy for you!”

• Sprinting headlong down the counter, you’re dimly aware of Perceptor looking up from whatever he’s working on with a soft huff. But not bothering to rescue you or to tell Brainstorm to stop. Running out of counter, you reverse direction, falling and smacking your hip and elbow on the counter when he grabs for you. Rolling as your elbow throbs, you shriek when he smacks the tray down in front of you cutting off your retreat. Nose wrinkling as your eyes water, you rub your elbow and glare up at him. “I’m not a guinea pig.”

• “Now you are,” he growls, not about to admit he has no idea what that is as he reaches and taps a servo against a candy to break it into smaller sizes. “It’s not poison. Eat.” And you noisily blow out a breath, bending and picking up a piece. Glancing at Perceptor, he sees the other mech and his little human watching you and him. Can feel the disapproval radiating off the other bot. Watching you smell the candy, eyes narrowed and suspicious, before licking it.

• Shuddering, you drop whatever that nastiness is. “Why does it taste like blood?” You groan, spitting on the counter. “Who makes candy flavored like a fucking gym sock full of old pennies?!” You yell at him and he recoils. Like you’re the unreasonable one. So much for not poison. Gagging, you back away when he growls and pulverizes another candy in a different color, pinching a tiny piece in his servos to try and give it to you. Does he really think you’re stupid enough to try his cooking a second time? “That’s not candy. It’s blasphemy, go torture someone else with it.” And he’s turning to look at Perceptor’s person, the other bot pointedly picking them up and just walking away, not dealing with either of you apparently. And Brainstorm’s attention swings back your way to make you tense. How many bones could you possibly break jumping off the counter? Couldn’t be that many.

[amellialunarie]

Don't Believe Me

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·┈┈┈┈

There's not much time left.

It's not like we never try any means we could ever think of. I mean, sure, some of them have left me with the lowest impression of ever caring about my curse, and some of them did what they could, but their efforts have never been enough.

And to be honest, I'm too tired.

The Kyklos's curse soon will take over my body, taking my mind as its nourishment for its root, blooming who-knows-what kind of anomaly flower.

Will I become a mindless anomaly, a Kyklos?

Could I even recognize the other ghouls when the curse takes hold?

Will I launch an attack on whatever I see?

.

.

.

We'll be together soon.

Ulp—!!! I almost threw up for reminding me of the sensation in my shoulder at that moment. My limbs go weak at the mere thought that I'm going to be the same as that one creature.

The spiral under my skin pulses. Not in pain. In hunger.

Every time I close my eyes, I see the bloom. Not metaphorically; I see it. A thousand writhing petals of bone and thought twist through my spine. They feel like roots trying to change me from the inside out.

I don't tell anyone anymore. They’ve stopped asking. It’s easier for them, I guess, to pretend I’m still on the right side of the glass.

“Hey, don’t faint on us now,” came a familiar, gruff voice. The latch of a medical case clicked open as Yuri stepped into my room.

The sound of his medical case latching open brought a strange comfort. Familiar. Almost routine by now.

Jiro trailed in behind him, clipboard already out. Eyes scanning, distant as ever. But not indifferent. Never indifferent.

Yuri frowned at the monitor. “Vitals holding steady. Strange. Honestly, with your last flare, I expected to find a lot more degradation today.”

“Not disappointed, are you?” I asked in a faint voice while forcing a smile.

Yuri glanced at me with a snorting laugh. “On the contrary, you’re giving me whiplash. First you spiral, then you stabilize. If I didn’t know better, I’d call it spite-based healing.”

I laughed too—short, bitter.

Jiro came closer and held out a small patch for my arm. Cold, sterile fingers brushed my skin, more gentle than they looked.

I flinched when the patch touched my skin. My nerves have started to fray lately—literally, maybe. The last scan showed root-like black threads in my shoulder joint. Yuri called them pre-bloom filaments. Said it like it was fascinating.

“You’ve been quiet,” Yuri said, glancing at the monitor. “No new auditory episodes? No visual distortions?”

“No nightmares, no psychotic breaks, and no sleep paralysis,” I said, lying flat at that moment. “I know the list.”

“Good memory. That means the frontal cortex is still holding.”

Then Yuri muttered, “Alright, I need to log this and push the data to the upper high.”

"To Darkwick?"

"Of course," Yuri said without looking at me, flicking his holo-tablet open. "They monitor all treatment logs. They get everything. You know the protocol.”

Then Jiro spoke, without looking up, “Even the unapproved ones.”

The air in the room thickened. My skin prickled.

“…Unapproved?” I asked, voice tighter now. “What do you mean by that?”

Yuri hesitated. “Some of the more experimental treatments. They didn’t pass central review. Darkwick flagged them as too… unstable.”

“Unstable for whom?”

Neither answered.

I sat up straighter, blood pounding. “You tried something. You wanted to do more. But they stopped you.”

Jiro didn’t speak, he just adjusted his gloves. But his silence wasn’t empty — it was heavy. Full of words he wouldn’t say. Couldn’t say.

Yuri sighed and muttered, “They said the risk was too high. That it might ‘destabilize anomaly growth’.”

Anomaly growth.

I stared at them and I felt it. That shift. That cold knot in my gut uncoiling as a sudden terrifying thought formed inside my head. They weren’t stopping treatment because it might hurt me.

They were stopping it because it might prevent the curse from blooming.

Suddenly, the pieces fit—too well. The gentle stalling. The false hope. The way every single move Yuri and Jiro made had to be passed through someone else’s judgment.

Not for my sake.

But to keep me viable.

They’re not waiting to save me. They’re waiting to watch me turn.

My mouth went dry. My chest hollowed.

And yet… I didn’t feel betrayed by them. Not exactly.

It was worse than that.

I felt played and pitied.

Like they were trying to save a bird with a broken wing, knowing full well that someone else was already setting up the cage.

In that moment, all my hope — the small flickering ember that hinted at a different ending — faded away. I knew, deep down, all this time. But thought about it in raw—no sedation, no sugar-coating, no hopeful lies...

It scraped something out of me that I didn’t know could still bleed.

Because it didn’t matter how hard Yuri tried.

It didn’t matter how quiet Jiro’s care was.

They were working under a ceiling of glass, and I was the experiment pressed against it.

For Darkwick, this isn’t a tragedy.

It’s a countdown.

To the bloom, to Kyklos. To me—as something else.

“Tell me something,” I whispered as I felt some tears that I didn’t realize I still had, burning behind my eyes... “What happens after I change?”

Yuri finally stopped moving. The light from his tablet flickered against his face. His jaw clenched.

“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s… not in our clearance.”

Jiro turned away.

I looked at them both. They weren’t lying, and that made it worse. They want to help me.

But they may already be too late.

I am a countdown now.

No name. No file. No history. Just a transformation waiting for the right moment to happen, so they can write it down and call it science, a discovery that was only meant to be research but was not given a shred of sympathy.

And I throw up for real now.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ .fin

Early warning : Tbh, I'm still not finished all the episode to the latest update so I actually have little information while making this (please forgive me if there's any OOC, have mercy). All I ever make mostly inspired based on what people posting so I always link their post in my credit. Word count: 1189.

#credits; seeing this post, I've been inspired.

[kier-with-a-k]

You're Too Good To Be A Sin - N. S.

Photographer!Nick x Artist!Oliver(oc)

A/N: I wasn't actually going to post this one because the original fic wasn't that great lmao @sturnsblogs knew it but I think I did it justice... I hope...

Warning: homophobia...(fuck you homophobes!!!) Swearing? Angst

Just walking.

We were just walking.

Hand in hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Laughing about some stupid pun Nick made—something about pigeons and politics. His smile curled up at the edges, sharp and sweet. And I was looking at him like he’d hung the moon crooked just to make me laugh.

Then—

"Disgusting."

One word.

Slapped into the air like a gunshot.

We turned. Instinct.

He stood by a newsstand like he was waiting for a fight. Sunglasses on despite the clouds, a lid of cheap coffee in one hand and hate bubbling in the other. Late 40s, maybe older. Jaw like concrete. Tie cinched too tight like his bitterness was holding him upright.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he said, louder now, like he wanted the whole street to hear.

A few people looked. And then quickly away—eyes skimming over us like we were nothing more than a glitch in the scenery.

Nick's laugh—it just vanished. Mid-breath. Like someone flipped a switch and pulled the color out of him.

His hand went loose in mine. Like his fingers didn’t trust the moment anymore.

"Jesus would weep," the man spat. Like our joy was a crime scene. Like our existence ruined his morning.

And I swear—Nick flinched.

Like the word “sin” had heat to it. Like it seared right through his ribs and scorched whatever softness he had left.

I turned to him.

His gaze was downcast, mouth pressed tight. That beautiful openness he walks around with—the way he glows when he’s unguarded, when he’s just being Nick—it dimmed. Faded to something brittle. Shaken.

And I—

I hated that.

Hated how one man, one coward with too much time and too little love, could make Nick feel smaller than he is. Could make him question the very thing that makes him so him.

So I turned. Not to fight, not to shout.

But I looked that man dead in the face and said, quiet as snowfall:

"You don’t know anything about love."

He scoffed. Of course he did. Walked away like he’d planted a flag in something. Like he won.

But I turned back to Nick.

Took his face in both hands, right there on the sidewalk, where anyone could see. Where the city could crane its neck and judge all it wanted.

I didn’t care. I cared about him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

He did. Barely.

Eyes rimmed red, like he was trying not to break. Like he was halfway to believing that man.

So I held him. Not just his face—him.

Every piece. Every cracked and golden part.

“You’re too good to be a sin,” I said, steady as I could. “Too good for a world this stubborn and afraid.”

He let out something close to a laugh. It caught in his throat, fractured in the middle.

“I hate that it still gets to me,” he whispered.

“Of course it does,” I said. “You’re human. But don’t let him take this from you. Don’t let him take you from me. You hear me? I love you like this. Exactly like this. I wouldn’t change one goddamn thing.”

His hands slid to my waist, clinging. Not for balance—for anchoring.

“Promise?”

“Always.”

And right there, on that cold, cracked stretch of sidewalk, under a sky too grey to care, I kissed him.

Not to prove a point. Not to push back.

But because I love him.

And I won’t let shame be louder than that.

People passed.

Some glanced. Some stared. Some didn’t see us at all.

But this time—we kept walking.

Hand in hand. Heart in heart.

Unashamed.

And unafraid

A/N: this is really just a middle finger to the homophobes!!! Love is not a fucking sin get that through your head!!! We are not dangerous by being ourselves!!! Why do you always have to ruin other people's fun? Get over yourselves!!!

TAGLIST: @sturnsblogs @thenickgirl @sturns-mermaid @sarahsturnn @jacksonsturniolo @certifiednickboy @nickssidewitch @fentiesturns @oopsiedaisydeer @messi10-fcb @nickscoconutwater @ed1tssturnn @lilyswirly @ev1ldeadboy @httpssturns @mattsfrenchtoast

[tricksh0t]

★ give me 5 minutes and a hair tie

☾ cassian andor x male reader

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 1.01k

cw: blowies (reader receiving)

It all started off as a joke.

Cassian was experienced. He had a girlfriend in his teens, then, when they broke it off, he took to exploring the world. The world being bars and women. He was a well-known charmer by the time his life had turned to chaos, but his charm never left him. He was just... tied down a little with long, serious commitments.

You told him one time that he wasn't as experienced as you because he'd never had guys. It came out as a joke because you were around Wilmon at the time, except he never let it go.

"I have had guys!" He'd said, but you knew he'd only ever had them experimentally and that he'd never had the time to practice.

Then it turned into a challenge.

"Five minutes," He promised, "five minutes, as soon as I find my damn hair tie."

Ugh, the bun did it first. The way he you could only see it when he turned and how some strands in the front were too short to make it to the back, leaving behind face framing pieces, was... nevermind all that, Cassian's already on his knees.

"This your first?" You ask, as Cassian's already hastily undoing your pants.

"No." You're not sure if he's bluffing at first with how quickly he responded. "I, uh, had an experience after I broke out of prison at Narkina Five."

You raised an eyebrow, "Melsh–?"

"Yeah, yeah." Cassian waved you off, the speed at which he struggled with your button increasing. "Don't get jealous now."

"I'm not jealous. That man is a fine piece of work."

"Will you–? Ugh, you're ruining the mood." Cassian rolled his eyes. With your pants down now, the moment he took off your underwear, it was five minutes.

"Should I put on a timer?" You watched on in amusement as he huffed out of his nose with frustration.

"Whatever you want, love." Cassian pulls down your boxers and gets right to work. His lips are around the head of your cock in a second, no build up nor forewarning.

Despite the shock, it's easy to overcome it. "Since when do you call me love? In your head, not out loud?"

He doesn't grace you with a reply. This is a challenge, after all, and Cassian is a goal-orientated man. Five minutes.

He forces himself down. He ticks all the bullet points: hollowed cheeks, an active tongue, breathing through his nose, except he can't even take half of you. It's only then that he wraps a hand around you.

Determination makes him push further, but his gag reflex catches up to him eventually. You knew it.

You never took the joke personally, and the challenge was his. As far as you're concerned, whether it takes five minutes or not, you're winning either way. That's why you're so quick to soothe, caressing the side of his jaw, holding the back of his head.

"Do you have to make this so tender?" Cassian pulls off to glare daggers at you, all movements momentarily paused.

The warm look and teasing lilt in your voice only make him glare harder. "You're wasting precious time, love..."

Cassian doubles down, except he doesn't focus on pleasuring you outright anymore. He falls back on one of his best skills: performance.

His eyes never leave yours, but they soften less into a glare and more into something lustful and intense. His tongue gets to work around you, except visibly now, not hidden in the dark cavern of his mouth. He knows how to use it. He presses kisses down the side of your shaft, then licks up, and finally takes you in his mouth again.

He doesn't take it all the way down, but it doesn't stop the wet heat of his mouth from enveloping your senses. He bobs his head, down the furthest he can go, up to the tip. Like a garnish, he pulls off to lick at the slit at the head, inciting a need in you to burst over his tongue.

Then, and it really seems like he doesn't care about how much time he has left, he pulls away. He unzips his jacket, then unbuttons his shirt, and now suddenly you're staring at his chest anf pecs because his actions have led you to it. Master kriffin' spy that he is.

A pleased hum escapes him when he notes your interested smile. "Like what you see?"

You can't give in to him, if not for the challenge, to poke fun at him. "Always."

Cassian rolls his eyes, and then he laughs. Maybe he has forgotten about his time limit. Eventually, he continues, pulling off your cock increasingly more to lick at the shaft wildly. Is it performance now, or is it worship?

Is it the need to appreciate you or a belief in your "weak" mind that has him kissing your balls and licking up your entire length whorishly?

He's been sucked off before. You and he both know that licking does half as much as sucking and using his mouth.

"Are you trying to play mind games on me, Cass?"

He only smiles in return, cheekily. When his mouth is on you again, it's a lot more intense. Sucking hard as if what he needs is to milk you of your cum, not because it's a challenge but because he wants it. Then he moans, moans around you and lets the vibrations flow.

Look at this expert. Hell, he does look good on his knees, doesn't he? With his toned chest and that hairbun and those eyes.

You spare a glance at the time. "It's been five minutes."

Cassian doesn't pull off, doesn't groan, doesn't throw a fit. He continues. It's more than the challenge now and you can be sure of it.

Whether it takes five minutes or not, you'll have one either way. Apparently it also applies to him, because after this, he's getting one hell of a reward.

Between the joyful crease in his eye and his insistence to continue, it almost seems like he knows it.

[m3lin03]

Razor's Grip - part one

Hi there! This is an idea I had for a while, it's still very vague, but i hope you enjoy it. The title is not that much related to the card, I just thought it fits the story. It isn't really proofread. Enjoy!

*reupload

✨Reader x Sylus Qin, non-mc!reader, mc, the twins, Philip, and other minor characters

✨word count: 1252

✨warnings: abduction, blood, fighting, stalking, curse words

✨other parts: 2 3 4 5

A rusty taste played on your tongue, shivers down the spine in the now cold air. The sweat of struggling against your restraints proved to be an enemy in itself as skin burned where the ropes eat at your wrists, and you were trembling.

A hand grabbed your arm tugging forward. You would've fought, but there was not a drop of energy left. So you just followed silently.

The sound of a door opening reached your ears before warmth hugged you form. Without any preparations the sack over your head is pulled off, yanking a few strands of hair and blinding light surrounds you.

How you got in this situation? No clue.

The day started just like any other.

Alarm. Snooze. Alarm. Snooze. Alarm.

‘Oh god, I'm gonna be so fucking late’, mumbled under your breath as you jumped around trying to put on some pants and shoving a piece of bread in your mouth.

Rushing on the street to catch the last bus that could take you in time to college. Miraculously ending up being just in time, entering the first course of the day.

The first weird occurrence was a bird - a crow, more specifically sitting on a branch when you were eating lunch. Not moving, not making any sound - just looking at you. Not hungry anymore, sipping coffee, you decided to throw some crumbs. Usually crows jump to get them. This one? Looked at them almost confused.

Weird, but ok.

Then the last course was cancelled. It wasn't unheard of, although the professor teaching that class was painfully serious about what he was teaching. You took over the years in Linkon University many courses with him, never did he cancel or show up late.

Everyone has a bad day, right?

You were running low on dish soap and… like everything in your fridge.

Walking down the street, something was off. At first you thought that lack of sleep made you paranoid. After all, projects over projects, sleepless nights must leave their mark at some point. So, you just tried to ignore the ringing alarm of danger in the back of your mind.

A glimpse of something familiar made you stop dead in your tracks - a crow. Specifically, the same crow from lunch. On a balcony, preening its feathers. The red shining of its eyes felt like an omen. For what? You didn't really know.

You just walked faster to the seven eleven on your block. Best is to get it over with, get home, eat, then maybe sleep.

The store was empty besides the middle aged lady staring bored in her phone.

The bell at the door rang once, then twice. Silence.

Weird.

Wandering around the aisles you could hear footsteps around you, but whenever you looked around no-one was there. You got your keys in your hand and continued placing things in your cart.

Getting to the soaps aisle you feel the happiness of a college student with not much left in your pocket until the end of the month - promotion. One last bottle of dish soap, that could last you three months, that had a promotion. You go to grab it only to see on the other side a silhouette.

A man in black clothes right in front of you. Just staying there.

Spooked was an understatement.

You have never checked out so fast, only to hurry to your apartment hoping whatever this was, it was going to be done once you were safe inside.

Oh, well, you were wrong.

Staying in front of your door were two men in black attire, with weird masks on their faces.

‘what the fuck’

‘Hi there! We don't want to scare you-’, said one of them while the other continued his sentence.

‘But we want you to come with us!’

The keys in your hands felt easier than ever, your body was buzzing in adrenaline, ready to pounce if they came any closer.

‘What do you want?’

‘We don't want to hurt you, but we need you to come with us’

‘Peacefully’, added the other.

‘Yeah, sure’, you said, throwing your groceries at them just to run down the stairs for your life. Jumping down two stairs at once, felt too slow when their steps could be heard closer and closer, but breaking your leg wasn't going to get you any safety.

Getting at the front door of your complex you hit it full force, opening it, only to fall down the front stairs.

Flashing pain went through your hand and knee, but tried to get up.

Useless, as two pairs of hands grabbed you then pulled you to a black van.

‘Did she hit her knee badly? Boss said to bring her back in good shape…’

‘It doesn't look bad, just a scratch. If she would've listened, it wouldn't have happened-’

‘GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!’, you yelled trying to break free, but it was futile. They didn't look buff, but surely they were more powerful than you. Struggling when they were trying to tie your amkles got you the opportunity to kick one with your foot. You tried to get up and ended up head butting the other which didn't win you anything besides a headache and something warm slowly flowing on your face.

‘Luke, just- Goddamnit! She just busted her forehead!’

‘Boss will NOT be pleased’

‘We tried ok?! Now tie her ankles, I tie her hands!’

‘LET ME GO!’

‘Lady please stop struggling, you will hurt yourself more than us, we really mean no evil’

‘Yeah, we are just doing our job.’

Being tied up left you no other option but to yell your lungs out hoping that, maybe, someone at a red light will hear your screams. It was short lived as the sack on your head made it hard to breathe.

After an hour of yelling and cursing and crying and struggling against your restraints, you just settled on laying down.

Now, in the well lit room two new people looked at you.

One was an old guy who was looking confused and quite concerned at you. He was wearing clothes that resembled those of a mechanic. The tablet in his hands had multiple diagrams on it that you almost could read if you wanted, but you didn't. You were pissed.

Then, there was a second one sitting in a chair and playing with a knife. Leather jacket, leather pants, gray - no, white hair and blood colored eyes. Eyes analyzing your forehead where there was a small open wound where your head hit one of the guy's mask, the blood and tears leaking down your face, your disheveled state. His attention moved to your abductors, the glint in his eyes changing into something sharper.

‘I thought I mentioned that she should be brought here in a well state’, his deep voice stated.

‘She did it herself!’

‘Are you implying that you found her like this?’, he said calmly while raising a brow.

Silence fell over the room as another burst of anger bloomed in your chest like a fire.

The white haired man was surely beautiful. He was tall and had a muscular body, but in your anger you really couldn't care less.

‘What do y’all want?’, you hear your hoarse voice and it sounds nothing like you.

The old man looks even more concerned hearing your voice. He stays in one place as if he was frozen, while the other says:

‘I want you to work for me.’

-------

@m00njinnie @allura-miss @phisen @96jnie @blue-serendipity

*This the reupload from my old account, this is where all the parts that are next will be posted. Thank you!*

[fairydustttx]

Pluto Projector

Robert Reynolds x Ravyn Lawson (Black OC)

A/N: This is a little interlude while I piece the rest of this story together so she’s a lil short my bad.

Warnings: mentions of drugs

Wc: 1026

Summary: Before he was The Sentry he was just Bob—reckless, unstable, and most importantly hers. Years later, Ravyn Lawson is a government psychologist assigned to assess a dangerous new superweapon... and comes face to face with the man she tried to save. He doesn't remember her. Not really. But something in him still knows. And that might be the most dangerous part of all.

PART FOUR - THE PAST PART THREE

Bob had never seen a sunrise like the one over Kuala Lumpur.

It wasn't beautiful in a romantic sense—more like eerie, the sky smeared in orange and gray, as if the city had been caught between burning and breathing. His backpack was damp from a storm the night before. He hadn’t slept. He hadn't really slept in days.

But that didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t Bob Reynolds, the guy from Queens who once danced in the kitchen with a girl smarter than the world knew what to do with. Here, he was no one. He was just a foreigner with shaky hands and enough guilt in his bones to drown a continent.

Bob had been planning this trip for months, quietly scraping together cash while Ravyn cooked dinner or studied in the next room. Loose change from under couch cushions. Pay from random delivery shifts. Some pawned things she never noticed missing—his guitar, a broken watch, a set of collectible comics he’d once sworn he’d die with.

She thought he was getting better and He had let her believe it.

Because the truth was, Bob didn’t want to get better—he wanted out. And not because he didn’t love her. That was the worst part. He did.

He loved her so much it hurt to breathe some days. But he loved her like a wound. Like something raw and infected that would only spread if left untreated. So he left before he ruined her for good.

The ad had said "volunteer participants needed for experimental neurological enhancement therapy." But word on the street, whispered by a guy who once sold him half-dosed painkillers, was that this program in Malaysia offered more than pills—it offered the good stuff. Not just a fix. A solution. A way to be better, stronger, whole.

Bob wasn’t stupid. He knew it sounded like a scam. But hope is a drug too. And when you’ve already burned through everything else, it’s the last high you reach for.

The facility was clean. Unnervingly so. White hallways, soft lights, the kind of silence that suggested money and danger had shaken hands. They gave him a number. Not a name.

For weeks, he was monitored. Poked, prodded, questioned. The injections started slow. Vitamins, they said. Stabilizers. “Necessary groundwork.” But the real stuff—the shimmering serum locked behind three layers of security—came later.

And when it did, it split him open.

Not all at once. Not like a bolt of lightning. More like a quiet fracture—an ache behind the eyes, a tightening in the chest, a hunger that couldn’t be fed.

He saw things. Not hallucinations—memories, maybe, or pieces of something deeper. Not just his own. Sometimes they came in dreams, sometimes while he was awake, staring at the flicker of a ceiling light for too long. And worse: he started forgetting which parts were real. Whether the love he left behind had actually existed, or if Ravyn was just a warm hallucination built by a broken brain.

But he knew she was real. He had to believe she was real. She was the last thing he’d held onto, even when everything else slipped—her laugh, the curve of her shoulders when she pulled on one of his old hoodies, the way she once kissed his wrist like it was a promise.

There were moments he wanted to write. Call. Crawl back to her with whatever was left of his mind in his hands and beg. But how do you go home when you're not even sure you're human anymore?

Then came the accident. One of the other test subjects cracked��ripped through metal restraints like paper. Bob didn’t remember what happened next. Not clearly. Just flashes. Screams. Smoke. And a mirror he passed that showed him something with his face, but eyes that weren’t his own.

After that, he was told he’d been “presumed dead” during the breach. Officially logged as a casualty of a failed trial.

Bob hadn’t corrected them. Better this way. Easier.

But sometimes, in the quiet hours—between the med-laced haze and the sterile bedsheets—he thought about Ravyn.

About how she'd looked at him the night before he left, her hand in his hair, her voice steady even as he shook from withdrawal.

"You're still in there, Bob. I know you are."

He wished she’d been wrong. Because if she was right, then the part of him that was still him had knowingly walked out on the only good thing in his life.

Now, in a country that barely registered his existence, he sat in a cheap hostel room, watching sweat bead on a cracked windowpane. He hadn’t had a real conversation in days. He hadn’t seen a familiar face in months.

He was a ghost of a man, floating through a city that didn’t care if he lived or died.

And yet—he felt something stirring. Deep in his chest. A quiet hum, like a machine warming up. The serum was changing him. He could feel it.

But it hadn't made him better. Not yet.

Not the way Ravyn had hoped.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

One night, he wandered into a street festival. Lanterns bobbed overhead, casting shifting shadows across vendors and dancers. Music pulsed through the crowd, and Bob stood on the edge, watching. Disconnected. Separate.

A little girl bumped into him all knees and pigtails, dropping a paper flower. Bob bent down slowly, joints aching from whatever they'd done to him inside. He picked up the flower and held it out to her.

She looked up at him wide eyed and unafraid, “Are you lost?”

Bob blinked. The heat shimmered off the asphalt. Her voice was small and steady, but for a moment—

It felt like Ravyn’s voice.

Not the exact pitch, not the tone. But something in it—gentle and solemn, like she already knew he was breaking. Like she could see through him.

He didn’t have time to answer.

There was a sharp sting in his neck. Immediate numbness. The world tilted sideways.

His hand let go of the flower.

And Bob’s body hit the ground like a sack of bone and memory.

[karizipan]

just a costume... right? 👻🦇🌙

[wolvndmouth]

how i feel all the time always my whole life and into the next rn

what i am 100000% sure would cure me

[mina-org]

part one - part two (youre here) - part three - part four - part five- six

warning for smut, 141 are panty sniffers! and more yanderery than the last! I have another part written but I just felt like was already dragged a lil so lmk if you want the next part! also not edited bc im lazy

“The birds just not fuckin’ into ya johnny. She never took this long to respond to me.” Simon smirks, truthfully he didn’t really remember but he was fucked off with this entire thing, not only was Johnny after his bird but texting you became a group sport, even the double text.

Simon seethes, usually you would've crawled back to him by now, you'd get drunk and call him sobbing from whatever pub you were at and you'd owe him, rinse and repeat.

At least if you were into Johnny he'd know what you were doing but now your absence started to eat at him, he just wondered your were like a deer fresh out the womb, learning to walk, how would you survive when Simon wasn't there to pick up your the pieces when you inevitably fell apart again.

simon couldnt take them fawning over you anymore so he returned to his bedroom, he had a little secret that he had to keep from those closest to him, your underwear. A collection really.

to start with, they were just tucked in his bag for when he was deployed, he’d push a pair around his cock, satin felt nice but the cream pair with little berries on? they were too cute and so you. He’d pump his cock until they were stick with his cum.

then when he was home more often and you were fucked too dumb to bounce on his cock, neglecting him after hes giving you so many? he'll remember that for next time. and really left him no choice but to scout out your discarded panties, maybe a fresh pair if you packed them, and he'd finish himself off before tugging them up your legs, his cum from earlier still leaking out your pretty pussy. something about you walking home in shame, carrying him with you, a sense of ownership simon loved.

now these panties were all he had, and he wasn't gonna share them. maybe with Johnny, if he was good.

after a week it just wasnt doing it for him anymore, he needed to see his girl but all his texts weren't sending:( and he hadn't seen you at the gym or the pilates class you spent so much money on. almost like your little temper tantrum was serious this time.

okay so it took simon a week or two to turn up begging, well demanding your forgiveness.

or he would've, if you answered the fucking door? after coming over and almost fighting your door guy a few times, he gets the hint, stealth is wealth and all that.

now here he is, staring at you through binoculars, on the rooftop opposite your building, like he's gathering intel or some shit. originally he was gonna keep this to himself, threes a crowd after all but it was chilly on the rooftop and simon is all about efficiency and your safety of course!

thing is, that pesky door man knows who simon is, and its doubtful a stick on moustache and boiler suit is gonna convince him that simon is also the buildings engineer!

through this process they've found out your building has a lot of security issues, nobody even thought about cyber security so when gaz sends out an email with a list of apartment numbers and a time, stating some maintenance was needed, no one bats an eye.

and of course you dont want any awkward conversations, like offering them tea or coffee 50 times while they try to focus but they'd think you rude if you dont and you can't ignore them, thats rude too. so you have to go out and stay out.

so you go shopping, you've been needing more underwear anyway!

soon enough John and gaz are in your apartment, putting up hidden cameras, slipping trackers into the linings of your most worn clothes, rifling through your belongings and testing out your perfume, trying to figure out which one you use daily from the memories of your scent lingering on simon and around the flat.

however gold is struck when they come across your laundry basket! feral is the best fitting word, Johnny will froth at the mouth once they tell him and of course share the bounty of their conquest.

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457

[scented-morker]

DDA: dorm displays of affection

Being a famous idol means PDA is out of the question, but not dorm displays. Alternatively, ways the enha boys show you’re theirs while in the dorms with their other members 🤭

1.5k words, idol!enha x gf!reader, this is fem reader, about 200 words a piece… no warnings i think, flufff, some are more general than others, im sorry 😔

Heeseung

Always has you sat on his lap.

Literally does not matter where you are or what you’re doing, you are not allowed next to him

Even if it’s a movie night and EVERY SINGLE member is there so you think ‘surely I can sit by myself this time, it’d be so weird for us to be cuddled up like that in front of everyone’

WRONG 🚨🚨

As soon as you sit down next to him, he looks at you like you’ve lost your mind

The pout comes out

“What are you doing?” 🥺

Genuinely looks so confused that you’re sitting anywhere else

“Hee, all the boys are here.”

Looks at you like ‘and since when do I gaf??’

Grabs your waist with one hand and pulls you into his lap himself 🤭

None of the boys bat a single eye

“Everyone knows this is where you belong baby” he says, kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around your midsection

Ignores you literally combusting

Jay

The definition of princess treatment

You can literally just turn your brain off when you’re around Jay

You haven’t touched a single door since the two of you started dating

He opens the car door, the door to the dorm, even his bedroom door

( he has your location turned on so he gets a notification when you’re close and can be there to open the door for you as soon as you arrive at their dorm)

One of the first times he took you out, you opened the door for yourself and he slid across the car hood to close it again and re open it before you had time to get out 🙄

(He looked really silly but you tell him it was cool)

Pulls your chair out even when you’re just eating dinner with the guys

Cue the boys exchanging looks and whip cracking motions 🤪

If you’re walking best bet he’s on the outside of the sidewalk and his hand is on your lower back, guiding you

You didn’t realize how much you stopped thinking around him until once when he was guiding you through the hall and he literally had to stop you from running into Sunghoon

It’s not your fault, you’re just a girl 🎀

Jake

NICKNAMES GALORE

The boys actually didn’t know your name for like a solid six months bc he NEVER said it

“My girlfriend is coming over” he’d announce

“Your girlfriend that is…?”

“Pretty?” He has no idea what they’re talking about

As soon as you get there all they hear out of his mouth are ‘pretty girl’ and ‘sweet angel’

Like hello you have a name 🤨

“C’mere pretty girl” as soon as you open the door

“What do you think, princess?” He asks your input as the boys decide what to watch

😵‍💫😵‍💫 sike, you don’t even need a name, he can call you whatever he likes

The boys like to tease him when they need you two for something

“Yes Jake, can you and your pookie wookie bear please join us in the kitchen for a moment?”

“Hey Jake, does your schnookums like cream in her coffee?”

He really doesn’t call you those, but anything out of his mouth might as well be to the guys

“Yes my beautiful girlfriend who is an angel on earth does like cream thank you very much. Lots of it.”

He does not care at all, he thinks you’re the sweetest thing ever and deserve to be reminded of it every time he talks to you

Sunghoon

Bro CANNOT FOCUS when you’re around it’s actually so bad

The boys have probably seen you guys kiss like twice but the amount of times they’ve had to smack him upside the head bc he’s zoned out staring at you???

♾️

He has the biggest heart eyes, if it was possible to love you anymore he’d probably actually develop heart shaped retinas

“Hoon? Hoon?” Heeseung calls his name four times before following his line of sight and seeing you filling a glass of water

“You’re so embarrassing.”

The boys approach you with anything they have to tell him because the only way he snaps out of it is if someone else joins you

He’ll be in space for 20 minutes but the second one of the guys walks up to you he’s right there

“Why are you talking to my girlfriend?”

(Yes I’m thinking about that fansign where he said no to everything 🤫)

The managers were gonna let you come to filming one time but the boys said ABSOLUTELY NOT

Hoon could not be in a five mile radius of you without getting dating rumors he was down so bad

Sunoo

This man loves you so bad he does not care who sees

Greets you at the door with a bone crushing hug and kisses all over your face

(The boys make faces at each other while they listen to his loud ‘mwah’s from the living room)

You flush when you walk in and realize they all heard it, but Sunoo pays them no mind, leading you by the hand to where he has a bouquet of flowers and your favorite coffee on the table

He’ll take you into the living room where the rest of the guys are playing games just so he can sit there with his arm around you while you enjoy your drink

Even when he gets into a fight with Sunghoon and starts yelling with his hands they’re still attached to you

One time he accidentally poked you in the eye while gesturing and he felt so bad he almost cried

Kissed it to make it better only to have the guys start throwing pillows at him for being “gross in the communal area”

“Fine, I’ll go kiss my girlfriend in peace!”

Now you’re a blushing mess that they all know 🫠

“Don’t be embarrassed baby, they’re just mad I have the prettiest girlfriend ever”

Jungwon

He takes care of you SO BAD

The boys teased him the first time they saw him stop to tie your shoes for you, but never again

Will be cooking the most delicious smelling thing in the world and smack the boys hands when they try to steal it

“This is for yn” 😠

Braids your hair, zips your jacket, honestly just fawns over you like a grandma 😭

“It’s cold out. You should bring a jacket!”

“But wonnnn, I don’t want to” you’d whine but does he care?

NO

His baby is not getting sick on his watch

Not only does he pick your jacket, but he also puts it on for you, zips it up, and puts on a matching hat

Imagine the boys reaction when the two of you go out one night and won comes back barefoot 😭

But your heels hurt and he wasn’t about to have that ‼️ so he gave you his shoes and carried your heels the rest of the way home

(The same heels that he insisted on clasping for you while you sat at his vanity)

‘Down astronomically bad’ Jay would cough as won leads you back to his room

Jungwon just thinks you should never have to do anything yourself 🤷‍♀️

“You just sit there and look pretty, I’ll get it” 🫣

Riki

Is quite literally always hanging off of you

Nonchalant my booty, when he’s in the comfort of his own home with the people who know him best… his facade goes down the drain

If you’re standing up at all— washing dishes, doing your hair, even standing in the living room having a conversation with one of his members

Without him??? I think not 🤨

Literally drapes himself across your back, hanging his arms over your shoulders and dropping his chin on top of your head

“Hi ki!” You chirp, turning around to see him staring, arms still locked around you

“Why are you doing that?” He asks

He doesn’t want you doing ANYTHING in his dorm.

Why are you even doing dishes? That’s his hyung’s job. Doing your hair??? For who? You will not be seen by anyone for the next 1-3 business days if it’s up to him

And if you’re talking to one of the members 🙄

He won’t say anything, but if you’ve kept talking for more than 2 minutes after he’s showed up, he’ll pinch your side and shoot daggers at whoever you’re talking to until the two of you give up

“No need to get moody, I’ll give you your girlfriend back,” Jake rolls his eyes

That’s what he was waiting for ‼️

Throws you over his shoulder and takes you right back to his room where you will never be heard from again!! (Until dinner time)

[mattsmedusa]

✎ 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✯ 𝐦.𝐬

ⓘ best friends ᚐ sexual tension ᚐ pet names ᚐ fingering your mouth ᚐ raw raw ah ah ah or whatever lady gaga said ᚐ sough rex ᚐ size kink ᚐ big dick!matt ᚐ praise kink ᚐ creampie ᚐ tiny plot twist ᚐ etc. + intended lowercase. 𝐰𝐜. 𝟏.𝟔𝐤

[𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞!]

from gum to the back of your pencil, you had to have something in your mouth when you weren’t eating or talking. it wasn’t as bad when you were a kid but as you grew older it kept getting worse. you had developed a bad case of oral fixation and your best friend, matt, was the first one to notice it.

you never realised how bad it had become until matt pointed it out one day, joking about how you always had something in your mouth.

"you hungry? you’re chewing on your hoodie string." he’d say with a teasing grin, earning an eye roll from you.

"bruh, if you keep nibbling on your pen, you’ll have to buy a new one ‘cause ain’t no way that thing’s ever gonna work again." he’d say as he hands you a piece of gum.

"kid, you’ve had that popsicle stick in your mouth since this afternoon." he’d comment and chuckle.

matt didn’t think too much about it at first—it was more amusing than anything, but it wasn’t long before his thoughts started to become inappropriate. he’d imagine other scenarios where you’d have something in your mouth—something big enough to make you gag and choke.

he always tried to will his mind to stop thinking about shit like that, but it never worked.

today wasn’t any different. matt was already having difficulty keeping his thoughts family-friendly but the way you were sucking that lollipop drove him absolutely insane. you probably weren’t even aware how sexy you looked right now in your loose pajama pants and white tank top combo, sucking on your candy like it was something else.

you had suggested a sleepover and matt couldn’t refuse, plus it’s not like he’d ever say no to you. but now that he was sitting cross-legged beside you in his own pj’s as you picked a movie to watch, it was starting to become more and more difficult to keep himself from acting like a horny teenager.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

it had been a few minutes since the movie began playing on your laptop and matt’s eyes kept drifting to your lips; he wasn’t even paying attention to the movie anymore. all he could think about was how good your mouth would feel around his-

"you want some chocolate?" your offer snapped him out of his thoughts and he cleared his throat before mumbling a hoarse "yeah, thanks" and popped a small piece of chocolate in his mouth, chewing slowly as his eyes stayed trained on the laptop screen to not blatantly stare at your lips again.

you shrugged off his odd behaviour, chalking it up to something your mind made up at the moment and focused back on the movie. matt, on the other hand, kept sneaking sideways glances at you, watching as you sucked on your lollipop.

fuck, he was already growing hard.

matt shifted subtly, anxiously pulling the blanket up more but the bulge ftom his raging hard-on was still there. he scanned the room for something to cover his lap and seeing a pillow discarded on the floor beside the bed, he almost whooped out in triumph.

he quickly took it and put it on his lap in a pathetic way to hide his boner from his oblivious best friend. sneaking a glance at you, a shaky sigh left his lips, thankful that you were still focused on the movie ahead.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

it was starting to become boring after one too many movies and you two decided to just sit and talk about random things. you laid on your stomach as you opened a game on your phone, the lollipop stick still in your mouth as you absentmindedly nibbled on it.

matt couldn’t help but stare, watching as your plump lips wrapped around the thin stick, wishing it was his dick instead. he shook his head subtly as if that’d make his explicit thoughts disappear.

"so uh… what’re you playing?" he suddenly seemed so interested in what you were doing on your phone, making you look up at him with a confused expression. "wh-what?" he said before you could even utter a word.

you gave him a look and chuckled, mumbling a quiet "nothing" as you went back to playing your game. "it’s just some puzzle game, been really into it these days." you answered his question after a few seconds, your eyes still trained on your phone screen.

he nodded even though you couldn’t see it. "i see…" he said as he laid beside you. "you know... you should, uh, maybe discard that thing already?" he referred to the lollipop stick in between your teeth, his eyes darting down to your lips before quickly snapping back up to your eyes.

"nah, i’m good." you replied, not looking up from your phone. your feet lifted up, ankles crossing as you swung them subtly back and forth, still laying on your stomach. "what, is it bothering you matty boo?" you joked, giggling at your own lame joke.

"i’m hard." he blurted out, a little too breathless. "and your fucking oral fixation is not helping, sweetheart." his chest heaved slowly, breath getting shallower as he tried to control them. the way you were looking at him nearly made him groan in frustration—those doe fucking eyes, looking at him so surprised like a deer in headlights.

"and? you’re saying it’s my fault your body decided to act like a horny teenager-" "yeah, it’s your fault." he cut you off, his eyebrows rising slightly as if he was daring you to say anything more.

you stared at him for a moment before sitting upright, a slow grin creeping onto your lips, causing matt’s breath to hitch in his throat. you slowly removed the thin lollipop stick from your mouth, tossing it in the trashcan beside your bedside table before leaning forward, eyes glinting with mischief. "you want my help then?"

oops, not the smartest thing to say.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

two long digits were shoved inside your mouth, your lips sealed around them, muffling your moans. matt’s hips were unrelenting, slapping against yours with lewd wet smacks, each one harder than the last. his fingers tightened on your hip, your legs thrown over his shoulders, allowing him to go deeper.

"is this what you meant when you said you wanted to help me?" matt drawled, his voice all gruff and hoarse from exertion and desire. "such a good girl, huh? helping her best friend get off." he laughed breathlessly, amusement oozing out of every word.

matt watched with hooded eyes as you nodded frantically, eyes threatening to roll back as his thick cock hit every right spot. a slow, lazy grin spread across his lips. "c’mon, pretty, suck on my fingers—what happened to your oral fixation? my dick’s so good you can’t even do what you can do best?"

his words caused you to momentarily snap out of your cock-drunk daze, making you suck on his fingers, nibbling softly, moans vibrating on them. he groaned low in his throat, finding the way you were sucking on his fingers to be too fucking sexy—enough to make his stomach tighten with his impending release.

but he wanted you to come first.

and so, he fastened his pace, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot that drove you crazy. the sound of sex, raw and wet, filled the room, along with your muffled moans and his groans and grunts. the bed creaked rhythmically underneath you, no doubt making enough noise for his neighbors to understand what he was doing.

matt’s eyes fluttered closed when he felt your velvet walls flutter around his pistoning cock, his brows knitting together due to how good your pussy squeezed around him. he couldn’t help but let out a low, deep moan, hips blurring as he fucked you into oblivion.

"c’mon, baby, i know you’re right there... don’t fucking hold back—oh, fuuckk... just like that, squeeze me like you wanna suffocate my dick." he groaned shamelessly, the dirty talk flowing out naturally. he began to move his fingers in your mouth, mimicking the way his length was destroying your sopping cunt.

it wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm crash over you.

"theere you go, you’re such a good girl." matt breathed out, feeling your insides pulse rhythmically around his shaft, his eyes closing briefly and hips stuttering at the feeling. "such a good girl—cumming on my cock so prettily."

matt picked up the pace again, his fingers slipping out of your mouth to hold your hips with both hands so he could really fuck you like he meant it. his hips smacked against yours loudly, and your moans and mewls filled the room—nothing in the way to muffle it.

"thaaat’s right, pretty, moan for me—show me how much you love my big fucking cock." he groaned, chasing his own orgasm.

a few more slams and his breath hitched, before a drawn-out moan slipped past his parted lips, his length twitching inside you as it painted your walls white with cum. "best fucking pussy—soo fucking good." he groaned softly, gently taking your legs off his shoulders and setting them down.

matt collapsed onto you, catching himself on his elbows as to not crush you under his weight. his forehead rested against yours, eyes still closed and breath hot and heavy. "so good." he whispered, breathless but sated.

"next time... you should let me suck you off, i’ve an oral fixation after all." his eyes fluttered open at your words, his expression turning slightly puzzled when he saw the small smirk on your lips.

then he remembered all those small smirks, the deliberate way you sucked on your lollipops and ice pops, and a look of realization slowly replaced his confused one, an amused smile creeping up his face. "you little fucking tease." he chuckled softly, giving your hip a small squeeze.

your oral fixation was over exaggerated on purpose huh?

୨୧

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

[neo-nomatrix]

CAN’T TOUCH ME LIKE GOJO

what gojo does when he’s jealous

cw - gojo uses red as a punishment, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, riding, teasing, kinda toxic gojo idk, bratty reader, rough gojo

Gojo was making you mad, beyond livid. He had brought you to this stuffy gala full of his balding colleagues and ditched you! You found solace in the bar holding an aperol spritz staring at your husband. He was beautifully dressed cream suit with a million dollar smile as he talks to his coworkers about business.

He hasn’t even thrown you a glance since he left your side. Normally you would still be next to him acting as arm candy but for whatever reason he left you to drink your sorrows. You assumed you would be stuck there for another hour or two with nothing to do. Until Hiromi Higuruma approached you. A man you had no idea was even distantly related to Gojos company.

“Mrs.Gojo, a pleasure seeing you somewhere besides with Satoru,” The man teases.

“Hiromi! Are you here to save me from this awful night?” It seems the lord has answered your prayers.

“You’re not enjoying yourself? Doesn’t Gojo normally keep by him at all times?” He asks, taking a seat next to you.

“Something’s up with him I guess, I’ve barely seen him all night and it’s horrible!” You complain.

“Oh sweetheart, how could he possibly treat someone as pretty as you like that?” He moves a piece of your hair out of your face and stares at you.

“I know! I mean he invited me here, and then has the audacity to leave me,” You pout to him.

“For the record, I would never treat you like that,” he smiles at you.

You look over at Gojo and he still isn’t looking in your direction. You decide to tease both the men a little more.

“Really? Do you promise ‘Romi?” You give him your best doe eyes and touch his bicep.

“On my life, sweetheart,” You both smile at each other.

In the corner of your eye you see a head of white hair coming toward you. Panic sets in but you can’t help but rub your legs together. You continue putting your hands on Higurumas chest to further instigate the situation.

“Babe, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Gojo pulls the back of your stool so you can’t touch Higuruma anymore and he wraps a large hand around your waist, “Higuruma, you’re also here.”

“I was just talking to your gorgeous wife Gojo. After you left her alone to talk to those gross executives,” Higuruma says.

Gojos jaw clenched and he squeezed your waist. His look of disgust apparent on his face.

“I think it’s about time my wife and I leave. Should I call you a cab Higuruma?” Gojo says.

“I’ll be alright,” Higuruma laughs.

Gojo pulls you away from the bar and quickly takes you away from the party. He ignores everyone asking where he’s going or trying to talk to him. Immediately as he reaches the car he opens and slams the door for you. He doesn’t speak a single word on the way home, despite your efforts to start conversation.

As you reach your home he’s immediately getting you through the door and up the stairs, he shoves you onto the bed as he removes his jacket. You hear him muttering swears under his breath.

“Do you enjoy being a slut who pisses me off? Hm? I mean really, what possibly do you get out of this?” He starts to undo the first few buttons of his shirt before he grabs your chin.

“I asked you a fucking question,” He growls at you.

“You left me! You left me all alone! I don’t know what you wanted from me, to just sit there twiddling my thumbs until you came back?” You argue at him, giving a big pout.

“What I don’t want is for you flirting with that piece of shit in front of everyone? You know how embarrassing that is, not only for me, but for you?!” He slips off his boxers to reveal his semi hard cock.

He pulls you up and puts you on your knees. He’s on his back and your face is inches away from his cock. But before you can wrap your lips around him something stops you. A force you can’t describe, red. He activated his repelling force to punish you.

You’re confused, upset, even angry at him. His usual punishment involves him overstimulating you but apparently not this time. You try to get past the barrier, using all your might to touch his cock. Yet nothing works, he’s the strongest after all.

“What did he call you?” He asks you, releasing red for you until you almost touch him, then activating it again.

“Sweetheart…” you whisper to him.

“And you fucking let him. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I know he can’t have you, fuck, he knows it. But it doesn’t seem like you do,” He says back, piercing blue eyes scanning your face.

You crawl on top of him, the barrier between your pussy and his cock still apparent. You try desperately to grind down on him to no avail. Tears start to form in your eyes but Gojo doesn’t seem to care.

“You want it inside you, sweetheart? Or do you want ‘Romi?” He mocks you.

“YOU! I just wanted your attention, promise! I got so mad you left me by myself. See?! All i want is you,” You whine as Gojo smiles at you.

In a moment the red hue turns blue and you get sucked down onto his perfectly aligned cock. You’re stuck to him like a magnet. His size makes you scream and want to pull away, but you can’t. As soon as you pull away you’re sucked back onto him, you thought torture wasn’t supposed to be addicting.

“Fuck Higuruma, fuck him and all the stupid guys there. You thought i wasn’t paying attention to you? I wanted you so fucking bad I had to stay away or else you’d be on the floor with my cock inside you,” He grunts, hands gripping your waist.

“Toru! It’s too much!” You’re full on sobbing at this point, legs shaking and body sweaty.

“You don’t want him right? It was just to make me mad, right baby?” He asks you desperately, his hair falling perfectly in front of his eyes.

“Yes! I just wanted you to fuck me, I swear,” You squeal.

His hips rut into your sloppy cunt as both of you moan and pant like two bunnies in heat. His fingers expertly tease your clit and he sucks blue and red hickies on every part of your body. He’s holding you as close as possible. His thrusts get sloppy and his moans get slutty.

“Gonna cum inside you baby, gonna fill my pussy up everyone’s gonna fucking know you’re mine,” He says in your ear.

“I’m gonna-“ Before you can even finish your sentence you pulse around his cock cumming so hard you see black.

He follow not long after, spurting hot ropes of cum inside you. He gets as deep as possible to ensure nothing slips out. He releases the technique and you fall on top of his chest, breathing like you just ran a marathon.

“Holy shit baby, that was so good,” He says, smiling.

“Yeah… i wanna take a bath,” you look up at him.

“Okay my love, just promise me one thing. Never make me jealous again.”

[rockwoodchevy]

Cold

Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: after an attack by raiders, you end up lost in the dead of winter. Joel doesn't take the news very well.

Word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of death (no actual death though), some swear words

a/n: hi all! this is my first piece of Joel workings so please let me know what you think! i have some WIPs that i am excited for as well so look forward to those as well! thanks for reading!

_________________________________________________

You’re smart enough to know that the fact that you no longer feel the cold isn’t a good thing.

The shaking has stopped, so have the pins and needles in your body. Your breathing is shallow and little puffs of what seems like fog come from your mouth as you exhale. The ripped up puffer jacket on your body is no longer keeping your body heat in, the thick leggings barely helped in the first place but now helping even less with the rips. In all honesty, you’re slightly surprised that you’re still alive or at least conscious. You know that you’ve probably lost quite a bit of blood from the stab wound in your upper thigh and maybe the laceration on your head. You can’t feel if the beanie you were wearing hours ago is still there but that thing was pretty itchy anyways so you don’t necessarily mind. The only thing you can feel right now is the pressure of your body pressed against the ground, your eyes locked on the sky. What seems like thousands of stars staring back at you almost taunting you, waiting for you to join them. You can’t feel it in the slightest, but a tear rolls down your temple. It’s a beautiful way to go, numb and looking at the galaxy above your head. 

You aren’t completely positive what happened, all you know is there was a yell from one of the others on patrol behind you and suddenly you were on the ground, head ricocheting off of something, what it was you aren’t sure. It took a second to come to, but everyone was a blur. The only person you could really recognize was Jesse who was fighting off some raider. In your attempt to help him, one of them stabbed you deep in your thigh. The last thing you remember is Jesse telling you to run and you didn’t second guess his words. You took off in the first direction that you saw, running until your leg could no longer hold you up anymore. You were losing too much blood and the cold was no help. You had no idea where you were or what your surroundings were. No idea how far away Jackson was. All you knew was that you were going to die here. No warmth. No pain. 

No Joel.

God, you almost want to pray to whatever deity was listening that your body would rot away out here after you die and nobody, at least nobody from Jackson, would ever find it. You would hate for Joel to have to see you like this. You know that he isn’t a very emotional man, but good God, does he love you. You’ve heard it from multiple people in Jackson; Ellie, Tommy, Maria, even people that you have never even talked to before. You can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. You’ve never had to worry with him, knowing that you were safe, appreciated and loved every second of every day. You couldn’t bear the thought of him having to see you like this; broken down and dying if that is what this is. Knowing that he’ll be in pain once you go, that is the worst part of all of this.

What you don’t know is that Jesse spent the better part of an hour searching for you. He began panicking once the sun went down and decided he had to make his way back to the town and gather a search party. He feared having to explain to Joel and Tommy why he was alone. As he rode up to the gates on one of the horses that was spared in the fight, he could hear one of the gatekeepers yell out ‘lone rider!’ and his heart dropped. He knew that Joel waited for you after every patrol shift that you had and that he most likely heard the keeper yell. As the gate opened, he could see multiple people, including both Joel and Tommy, run out to him. While a couple of the people including Tommy helped tend to Jesse’s wounds, Joel immediately started questioning him about your whereabouts. Jesse could only babble out what he could about the raid as he broke down into tears, explaining the attack and him telling you to run so you wouldn’t get more hurt all the way up to his search for you in the surrounding wooded area. Joel’s heart fell completely out of his body, freezing as it landed in the soft pile of frosted grass beneath his feet. He didn’t hesitate to help drag Jesse back inside the safety of Jackson’s walls, not to ensure their protection but to question the hell out of him as to where he looked. Jesse told him everything he could. After Jesse was brought to the infirmary, Joel looked to Tommy who was already looking at him wearily. 

“Joel-“ Tommy began, but Joel didn���t let him finish his sentence.

”I’m going whether ya like it or not. With or without ya.” 

In 20 minutes time, a search party of about 10 people, including Tommy, Maria and Ellie, had gathered together to search for you. Joel’s heart couldn’t stop its rapid beating in his chest. Jesse told him about your hit to the head and injury to your thigh. They didn’t know the severity of them both. The party headed off in the general direction of where both you and Jesse were attacked and spread out from there. Joel started to yell out your name in hopes that you would be able to respond to it. Tommy immediately began to shush him.

”Joel, we can’t just start screaming her name out here, there could be more raiders in the area-“

”I don’t give a fuck who else is out here,” Joel interrupted Tommy. “My girl is out here and we are gonna find her tonight.”

They agreed, much to both Joel and Ellie’s dismay, that an hour-long search would happen before they would all have to retire until the next day. They all separated in 5 groups of 2. Each with weapons to defend themselves, whistles around their necks and first aid in the hopes that they could find you.

But you had already given up mentally and almost physically. You couldn't ask for better company in death than the stars. The crickets. The wind. The trees. Death would be peaceful, painless, easy. The only thing you wished was that you could say goodbye to Joel. Kiss him one last time. Hold him one last time. The only heat you’ve had in a while bursts in your chest at the thought of him. You close your eyes, the heat dissipating. 

Maybe you’re dreaming or maybe you’re just hallucinating, but you think you can hear someone calling your name. You think it could be an angel calling you home or some religious shit like that, but no, you know that voice. You open your eyes, looking back at the stars. You hear it again and another familiar voice echoes behind it. 

Tommy and Maria are here.

You could cry, out of happiness or sadness you don’t know. Happy that you could be rescued and brought back to your home, regardless of either it was Jackson or Joel. Sadness because you know that there is a bigger chance of you not making it than there is that you will, and either they or Joel will have to watch it happen. But regardless, you’re happy it was them and not Joel. 

Your name is called again, slightly closer than it was before. You know that you won’t be able to speak, to call out that you’re here, so close yet so far away it seems. You worry that if you don’t make noise soon, they’ll turn the other way and your fate will be sealed. You think fast, remembering that small handgun Joel likes to shove into your pack. You muster up all the strength that you can and search for the pack without turning your head. Feeling the zipper, you undo it and slip your hand in, feeling around until you grasp the handle of the gun. Pulling it out, achingly slow since the burn in your muscles is agonizing. Tears fall down your temples again as you hear your name once more, now further away. Using all the strength you can, you aim the gun away, cock it and shoot. The sound of it is almost deafening, the shot making your arm fly back some. That shot is all it takes.

Tommy and Maria both turn towards the sound of the shot, both of them reaching for their weapons. They’re confused when they don’t see another raider but continue towards the area. Maria gets there first, gasping and throwing herself off of her horse and falling to her knees at your side. She touches your face a few times and says something to you, but you can’t hear it through the relief that floods your brain. More tears fall as Tommy slips off his thick jacket, laying it on top of you. Maria rubs her hands along your arms to attempt to warm you as much as she can. 

“We gotta get her back to town. She’ll die out here.” Tommy says hastily. 

They both aid each other in helping to lift you up and onto Tommy’s horse. He straddles it behind you, praying Joel will forgive him for doing what he has to in order to keep you both warm and alive. He pressed his front to your back, resting his head on your shoulder and immediately began to ride back towards Jackson as fast as he could. He was speaking to you, telling you that you had to hold on, that you had to fight because he didn’t know if Joel could take another heartbreak like this. He had one hand on the reigns of the horse, the other one rubbing against your thigh to try and help you gain your heat back. His hand felt wet and he pulled it back to see it covered in crimson. His stomach churned and he attempted to get his horse to ride faster. He couldn’t let you die, Joel wouldn’t be able to come back from this. He barely came back from Sarah, he couldn’t imagine what this would do to him. 

Maria rode back towards where the party originally separated and blew her whistle as loud as she could. She did it for a few moments before turning back towards the town while still blowing it. As she left the wooded area, she could see a few of the other riding back towards Jackson as well. Mostly, she could see both Joel and Ellie riding as hard as they could back to their little sanctuary. They all reached their within the same small time frame. Maria, Joel and Ellie all stormed towards the infirmary and saw Tommy’s horse abandoned outside. Maria could see the fear in Joel’s eyes as they stormed inside, pushing past the doors and into the main room. 

Joel pushed past a few people to get to the back room that they usually keep unoccupied for emergencies. When he pushed the door open, the doctor was hovering over Tommy who had her huddled in his lap, hands gliding up and down whatever inch of skin he could reach. Joel promised himself that this was the one time he would let that slide, especially since her life depended on it. Tommy made eye contact with Joel as he stormed over to them, subtly sliding her over to Joel as he sat next to them. Joel could feel her weight press down on him and first the first time that night, the tightening in his chest loosened just a little bit. He immediately started to run his hands up and down your body through the two blankets that were tucked around you. The doctor was speaking to him, but he wasn’t listening. He called your name a few times, hoping that you could hear him. 

“C’mon, honey,” he begged, “I need you to open those pretty eyes for me. Lemme see them.”

He was practically talking to a statue, the cold almost becoming you. Joel didn’t cry very often but he figured now would be an exception. They ran down his cheeks rapidly as he held back a small sob; he couldn’t care less that Ellie, Tommy and Maria were there to see it.

”Please, baby. I need you to look at me.” He sniffled some. “I can’t do this without you. I’m so sorry; I should have been there. I should have protected you. You… you’re everythin’ to me. Please don’t go. I promise I’ll do anything as long as you stay. I won’t… I won’t make it through this.” Joel shook his head, pulling you closer to him. “I need you to stay with me. I’m beggin’ you.”

Ellie had to turn and leave, she thought she was going to be sick. Maria left with her, not wanting to interrupt this moment, whether it ended good or bad. Tommy stayed with Joel, assisting in trying to get your body heat back to somewhat normal. 

You, on the other hand, felt like you were floating. You could hear Joel’s words, the pleading in his voice, the urgency in his and whoever else’s hands were brushing up and down your skin. You thought that the stars were the perfect company in death but now, you realize that if there was something you’d want to look at as you go, it would be Joel. You wanted so badly to let him know that you were here with him, that you could hear him but your muscles were so tight, so tired. All you could get out was a deep hum from the back of your throat that you weren't sure was even your voice, you couldn’t recognize it. But Joel did, pulling you tighter against him. 

Joel turned to Tommy quickly with an urgent look in his eyes.

“You gotta leave.” He told him.

Tommy looked at him oddly. Joel shook his head.

“Body heat. She needs body heat.”

Tommy finally understood, standing and exiting the room to go and find both Maria and Ellie. The doctor excused himself as well, standing outside the room in case there was some sort of emergency. Joel wasted no time in stripping off any layer of clothing that he could get to. It didn’t take much to rip off what was left of the leggings that you wore but he struggled a bit with your jacket. He laid you down on the small bed, taking off his clothes as fast as he could; he didn’t want you away from him, worried that even a second not near you could do more harm. He laid himself on top of your body, both of you now only covered in your undergarments. He knew that you would most likely complain about the fact that we were practically naked in a public place but at this point, he couldn’t give a shit. All he cared about was making sure you stayed alive. He covered as much of your body as he could while still whispering sweet nothings into your ear, trying to get some sort of reaction from you.

It took about half an hour but your body temperature was coming up slowly. You almost wished you were still numb because the pins and needles were returning, causing some discomfort. You found your voice a little while later, moaning out of pain. The dull throbbing in both your thigh, now stitched and covered up, and your head (which surprisingly wasn’t busted open like you thought it was) was hurting. Tears developed in your eyes and for the first time that night, you could feel them running down your face. You could feel a sob rising in your chest quickly before it came out of your mouth. And though it was a sign that you were in pain, Joel was ecstatic. Because it meant that you were warm enough to feel again. 

“I know, I know honey. I know it hurts. I’ll get you taken care of.” Tears rose in his eyes. He never thought he would be excited to hear you crying, but here he was. He continued to warm your body as he held you while you cried. You genuinely thought that you were going to die out there, alone with the stars and sounds of nature. You never realized how you had taken being held by Joel for granted and boy, did he know how to hold you. 

Once you could feel your limbs again and had full control over them, you slowly lifted an arm to warm around Joel’s middle, holding you to him as tight as you could. Joel released a sob at the touch of your skin on his. Like you, Joel started to realize how he had taken holding you for granted. The world was a scary, uncertain place. Every day, people walked a thin line between life and death and today, you almost crossed it. You were both so close to never being held by each other again and Joel couldn’t handle the thought of that. 

“It’s alright, honey. I gotcha. I always have ya.”

And you believed him. Because he saved your life. 

And unbeknownst to you, you had saved his too.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Trying aphrodisiacs with Hyunjin

Warnings: smut, that's all

Word count : 2.5k

As usual: Alexa, plays Chain by Lolo Zouaï

The soft hum of a movie played in the background, but neither of you were really paying attention anymore. Hyunjin was sprawled across the couch, socked feet tangled with yours, a half empty wine glass between his fingers. His hair was a little messy, cheeks warm and red from the alcohol, and he looked too effortlessly pretty for a lazy night in.

"You really bought it", you said, holding up the black box in your hands. The label was sleek, with golden details, and completely ridiculous: 

‘Tabs

Break, bite and bang’

"I had to”, Hyunjin laughed, sitting up straighter. "The guy at the shop swore it’s a ‘sensual awakening experience’. Whatever that means”. You raised an eyebrow. “You know it’s just going to be a placebo, right?” "Maybe”, he said, smirking, "Or maybe we’ll be crawling all over each other in twenty minutes". You rolled your eyes, but your face was already heating at the implication, “You say that like it's not already a bad idea risking it to happen”. He shrugged, grinning, “Exactly why it’s fun”.

The box opened with a soft snap— inside, a handful of glossy chocolates, each wrapped individually, “So we’re really doing this?” you asked, giggling nervously, “For scientific purposes”, Hyunjin said, already unwrapping his. You mirrored him, popping the piece in your mouth. Rich, dark, slightly bitter— like it had some herbal undertone you couldn’t quite place, “Not bad”, you said, licking a bit of melted chocolate off your thumb. 

You didn’t miss the way Hyunjin’s eyes briefly dropped to your mouth before he quickly looked away, “You feel anything yet?”, he teased, “Nope. You?” “Is it normal that I already want to kiss you?”, he said casually, and then grinned when you turned toward him with mock offense, “Kidding. That’s probably just the wine”. 

You just nodded but you were starting to notice the heat building under your skin. A low, humming warmth curling in your stomach. You shifted slightly on the couch— and when your thigh brushed his, it felt… sharper. Like a tiny spark.

You both froze.

“Did you feel that?”, you asked. Hyunjin blinked. “Yeah”. The air grew thick with something unspoken. His eyes were darker now, a little too focused on you. He licked his lips without thinking, and your heartbeat made a mess in your chest, “Okay”,  you said, sitting up straighter, pretending nothing was happening. “This is fine. Totally fine” “Totally”, Hyunjin echoed. But he was already leaning just a little closer.

Well, the aphrodisiac was definitely working.

“It’s getting hot in here?!”, he said, voice too high pitched. “Maybe it's just in our heads”, you replied, voice a little too breathy, "Maybe”, Hyunjin echoed again, but his gaze had shifted to your collarbone, where your pajama had slipped slightly off one shoulder. His fingers twitched on the cushion between you, like he was trying not to reach out.

The movie still played, but neither of you had any idea what was happening on the screen anymore. You shifted again, crossing your legs, trying to get some relief— and his eyes definitely followed the motion. You swallowed, “Okay. I’m warm. Like, unnecessarily warm” "Same”,  he muttered, "Is the heater on?". You both glanced at the thermostat— off. Sure.

“Okay, maybe it’s not just in our heads”. You reached for your wine glass to distract yourself, but your fingers brushed his instead. Just a light touch, accidental, harmless— except it wasn’t harmless. Not this time.

Your whole arm tingled, awareness shooting up your skin like a live wire. You glanced at Hyunjin, and he was already staring at you like you'd just set the room on fire, “Are you also feeling…” “Yeah”. You both sat there in stunned silence for a second. Then, he burst out laughing, “Oh my god. We’re idiots”. You laughed too, “This was a terrible idea” “Or a brilliant one”,  he said, voice low now, a little rougher. He leaned in just slightly, and you hated how good it smelled— his cologne, his skin, the faint chocolate still on his breath.

Your stomach tightened. Your heartbeats skipped, “I swear to god, Hyunjin, if you look at me like that again…” “Like what?”, he asked innocently, but his eyes were anything but innocent. “Like you’re about to climb on top of me”. He grinned, “I’m trying really hard not to”.

That shouldn’t have been hot. It shouldn’t have sent a throb of heat between your legs. But your body was humming, needing him deeply. You tried to stand up, desperate to cool off, maybe splash some water on your face, but the moment you got to your feet, you felt dizzy, flushed, your skin hypersensitive and aching, “Okay, no. This is stupid. I need water. I need cold air. I need…”

Hyunjin stood too, standing right behind you. Suddenly, his hand landed on your waist and everything in you lit up at once. You gasped, “Oh god! Don’t touch me”. He froze in place, “I barely touched you!” “Exactly”. You looked at each other, eyes wide, panting, hearts racing like you’d just run a marathon.

Then you both broke into laughter again. Nervous, breathless, almost desperate, "This was supposed to be a joke", you said weakly. Hyunjin leaned in closer, hands still hovering your waist, “So what if it isn’t anymore?”. You didn’t answer, you couldn’t. Not when his lips were inches away, and the tension was thick at the point to be palpable. 

But then, in an impulsive act, his mouth crashed into yours. Hot, frantic, greedy. Exactly the opposite of his personality, the kiss is needy, messy, starved. Your hands tangled in his hair, his body pressing against yours like he couldn’t get close enough, and every single nerve of yours screamed for more.

His mouth was warm and insistent against yours, and for a second, your brain short circuited. This was Hyunjin— your best friend. The same idiot who steals your fries, sleeps on your couch way too often, and knows every embarrassing story about you. But right now, all of that blurred beneath the heat of his hands and the desperate way his lips moved with yours.

You should’ve stopped it. You meant to stop it. But then his fingers found your waist again, dragging you closer, and everything rational inside you shattered. You whimpered into the kiss, your body pressing to his like it was the most natural thing in the world. His hands slid under your shirt, not even trying to be subtle now, and you gasped at the contact. Your hypersensitive skin burned under his touch.

 “Fuck”,  he breathed against your mouth, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead on yours, “This is… fuck, I didn’t think it’d hit this hard”. You nodded, equally breathless,  “I can’t think straight. I just… Hyunjin…”. His name on your lips did something to him. He kissed you again, harder this time, hungry, messy, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. His hands roamed like he didn’t know where to start. Waist, hips, up your back, tugging you flush against him.

Your head fell back with a shaky moan as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your jaw, your throat, the edge of your collarbone, “You’re my best friend”,  you said suddenly, breath hitching. His hands stilled for half a second, his lips hovering just above your skin, “I know”, he murmured, “But right now, I don’t think I can pretend I don’t want you”.

You let out a shaky laugh, part nervous, part delirious with desire, “This is gonna ruin everything” “Maybe”,  he said, voice low, almost trembling, “But I’d rather ruin everything than stop touching you right now”.

It was enough for you to surrender. You pulled him back to you with a groan, your fingers threading into his hair as his mouth crashed against yours again, his hands finding every inch of exposed skin he could reach. You were both losing control fast. Clothes slipping, kisses deepening, breaths turning into ragged moans. He pressed you down on the fluffy carpet, hovering over you, eyes dark and wild with desire. “Tell me to stop”, he whispered, lips brushing yours. But you didn’t. Instead, you pulled him in closer and kissed him like you’d been waiting years.

And maybe you had.

Your clothes disappeared in a blur of kisses, breathless laughs, and trembling hands. Neither of you spoke much now, there wasn’t room for words, only the frantic pace of touch and the fire crawling under your skin. His shirt came off first, then yours. The moment his skin touched yours, you both gasped— heat meeting heat, every nerve lit up and begging for more.

Hyunjin’s lips trailed down your neck, tongue teasing against sensitive skin, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch, “God, you’re driving me insane”, he murmured, voice deep and wrecked, like it physically hurt to hold back. “You think I’m not losing my mind too?”, you whispered, clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin as he pressed his hips down against yours.

The friction— hot, perfect, too much and not enough all at once— made your body jolt. He groaned low in your ear at the contact, his hands gripping your thighs, sliding between them to spread you wider beneath him. Your breath caught when his fingers found you, stroking slowly and deliberately. You were soaked, already aching from just kisses and heat and him. His touch was expert, sensual, gentle but with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble.

“Fuck”, he whispered, watching you melting into pleasure under him, “You’re so wet already. Is this all because of me or the aphrodisiac?” “It’s you”, you gasped, hips rolling into his hand, “It’s always been you, Hyunie”.

Something shifted in his eyes. something softer beneath the hunger, like he’d been waiting to hear that for far too long. He kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, tongue tracing yours in a rhythm that matched the movement of his fingers between your legs. You were so close already, body shaking, moaning into his mouth with every pulse of pleasure he gave you, “I wanna taste you,” he said against your lips, his voice low like a prayer. 

You didn’t even get to answer before he slid down your body, eyes never leaving yours, lips trailing kisses across your stomach before settling between your thighs. The first flick of his tongue made you cry out. Your hips lifted, thighs tightened around his head as he licked you exactly like he’d dreamed of it. Like he needed it. Slow circles, teasing swipes, sucking just right until you were a panting mess, fingers tangled in his hair, begging without shame.

When you finally came, it hit hard— sharp, overwhelming, stars hit your eyelids as your whole body shook with release. He didn’t stop until you were twitching under him, your chest heaving, legs weak. And then he was back above you again, kissing you through the aftershocks, hands cradling your face like you were something precious, “I need you”, he whispered, voice barely holding together.

You reached for him, pulling him closer, “Then take me”. Without thinking twice, his body settled between your legs, skin against skin, warm and trembling with need. You could feel him hard and heavy, pressed right where you needed him most. But even now, as wild with desire as he was, Hyunjin paused. His forehead rested against yours, his breath unsteady, “This changes everything”, he whispered, “I know”, you breathed, reaching up to cup his cheek, “But I don’t care. I want you”.

That was all he needed to hear.

You felt the slow press of him entering you, inch by inch, stretching you open, filling you so perfectly it was almost unbearable. Your mouth fell open in a gasp, and his low groan echoed yours as he sank all the way in, hips flush against yours. “Fuck”, he muttered, eyes squeezed shut, “You feel so good, princess, so damn good”.

You clung to him, overwhelmed by how deep he was, how right it felt. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him even closer as he began to move— slow at first, gentle, like he was trying to savor every second of this moment. Each thrust dragged a moan from your lips, your body arching into his, nails raking down his back. He kissed you hard between each breath, each movement, a fevered rhythm of lips and hips, skin and sighs, “You’ve no idea for how long I’ve wanted this”,  he said against your neck, his voice shaking.

You matched every movement with your own, matching his rhythm, anchoring him with your hands as pleasure grew tighter inside you. The friction, the heat, the way he kept whispering your name— it was everything. “I should’ve told you”, he panted, moving faster now, “Should’ve said it a long time ago” “Said what?”, you gasped, eyes fluttering, overwhelming tears rolling down your face.

“That I’m in love with you”

The words did something to you. You pulled him into a kiss so deep it stole your breath. Your response was not spoken, but felt in the way your whole body wrapped around him, the way you gave him all of you. Every thrust grew messier, more desperate until you were both on the edge.

You came again, clenching around him, moaning his name as waves of pleasure tore through you. He followed moments later, groaning against your shoulder as he buried himself deep, hips stuttering through his release, breath ragged and body trembling.

For a long moment, neither of you moved— just tangled limbs, racing hearts, sweaty skin, and the weight of everything you’d never said until now. Hyunjin’s body was warm against yours, his hand resting gently on your hip as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck. You could still feel the warmth between you both, the remnants of your shared breaths, the pulse of everything that had just happened.

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes still dark with the aftermath of what you'd just shared, but now there was something softer, something real. His thumb traced small circles on your skin, “So…”, he began, his voice low, still breathless, “That was... intense”.

You laughed softly “That’s one way to put it” “I’ve wanted this... wanted you for so long”, he said quietly, pulling you closer, his forehead resting against yours. “It wasn’t just the aphrodisiac, YN. I... I’m in love with you. And I always have been. Since the first day of elementary school”.

 Your heart skipped at the confession, the weight of it settling into you like the warmth of his touch, “I know”, you whispered, brushing your fingers through his messy hair, gently tugging him back into another kiss. This one was slower, more tender with no urgency, just the soft acknowledgment of something new, something deeper.

He smiled against your lips, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, “Is this going to be weird now? Like, with everything? With us?”. You shook your head, “It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re still us. Best friends, just... with more now”. He chuckled, a little nervous, but also relieved, “You’re right. But damn, I never expected you to be that good in bed”. You rolled your eyes, hitting his arm, while he laughed “Idiot”. 

He rested his head against yours, his hands gently caressing your back, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. You didn’t need anything else.

Just him.

Just this.

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