#I’m sorry for letting you down. it’s not okay

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Me

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc is the perfect man for you … getting stopped on the street for a random TikTok challenge just serves to prove that even further

The warm Monaco sun beats down on you as you stroll leisurely along the bustling sidewalk, a canvas tote bag filled with fresh produce and flowers from the local farmer’s market hanging from your shoulder. The salty sea breeze wafts across your face, carrying with it the excited chatter and laughter of tourists admiring the luxurious yachts bobbing in Port Hercules.

You smile to yourself, relishing this perfect Mediterranean afternoon. Just a quick stop at home to drop off your purchases, and then maybe you’ll take a dip in the infinity pool on the terrace to cool off before Charles is done with-

“Excusez-moi, mademoiselle!” A young man’s voice breaks through your daydreaming. You glance over to see a twenty-something guy with a neatly trimmed beard, expensive-looking sunglasses, and a black t-shirt emblazoned with HUSTLE in white block letters. He’s holding a mini microphone and has his iPhone pointed at you, clearly filming.

A TikToker.

You sigh internally but force a polite smile.

“Oui, puis-je vous aider?” You reply in French.

“Ah sorry, I don’t speak much French! Do you speak English?” The TikToker asks eagerly in a British accent.

“Yes, I do. Can I help you with something?” You say, switching to English yourself. You just want to get home but you know these influencer types can be annoyingly persistent.

The TikToker grins. “Brilliant! I’m doing a social experiment for my followers. I was wondering — do you have a significant other? A boyfriend or husband perhaps?”

You raise an eyebrow questioningly but decide to humor him. “Um, yes, I have a boyfriend,” you answer simply.

His eyes light up. “Fantastic! And would you say your boyfriend loves you very much?”

You can’t help but chuckle at the boldness of this stranger’s line of questioning. “Yes, I would definitely say that. He loves me a lot,” you confirm, a soft smile playing on your lips as you think of Charles.

“Perfect! Okay, here’s the challenge,” the TikToker announces dramatically, staring intensely into his camera. “I want you to call up your boyfriend right now and ask him to send you some money. Doesn’t matter how much. But for every €100 he sends, I’ll give you €20 to keep for yourself. Let’s see how much he really loves you, shall we?”

You stare at this guy incredulously for a moment before bursting out laughing. Is he serious? He clearly has no idea who your boyfriend is. An amused smirk spreads across your face as you fish your iPhone out of your designer purse.

“Alright, you’re on,” you say confidently, already unlocking your phone and tapping on Charles’ contact. The TikToker looks surprised but excited that you actually agreed to his silly challenge.

“Put it on speaker phone,” he instructs, zooming his camera in on your phone screen which is now dialing Charles.

After a few rings, the warm, honey-smooth voice you adore comes through. “Allô mon amour, what’s up?” Charles greets you sweetly. “I’m just finishing up some simulator runs but I should be done soon to help with dinner.”

“Hey baby,” you reply, your voice automatically softening. “Sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. But I’m out right now and I just passed by that little boutique near the casino, you know the one? And I saw the most incredible pair of shoes in the window. I swear they were calling my name.”

Charles laughs affectionately, the sound like music to your ears even through the cell phone speaker. “Oh yeah? The ones that were calling your name last week turned out to be, what was it, €900?” He teases.

You roll your eyes playfully even though he can’t see. “Okay, fair, but you know I hardly ever splurge on myself. I’m usually so frugal!”

“Mmhmm, whatever you need to tell yourself, chérie,” Charles says wryly and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Let me guess, you need to go get these dream shoes right now? Or else they’ll haunt you forever?”

“You know me so well,” you gush dramatically. “I promise I’ll pay you back though! I get paid next week and-”

“Hey, hey, stop,” Charles cuts you off gently. “Mon cœur, you never have to pay me back, you know that. I love being able to treat you and spoil you. You deserve the world. Never forget that.”

You feel yourself melt at his earnest words, momentarily forgetting you have an audience. “I love you so much,” you murmur. “Thank you for always being so good to me.”

“Right back at you, ma belle. Je t’aime,” Charles says tenderly. “There, check your banking app. Let me know if you need any more. And have fun shopping! I’ll see you at home in a bit, okay? À bientôt!”

You glance down at your phone as a notification from your bank pops up on the screen. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the amount Charles sent over, but you recover quickly.

“Thank you, baby. See you soon!” You reply before hanging up. You turn back to the TikToker who is gaping at you in disbelief. Casually, you turn your phone screen towards him and his camera so he can clearly see the notification that €10,000 has just been deposited into your account.

The poor guy looks like he’s about to pass out from shock. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, rendered speechless. You just laugh good-naturedly.

“Well, guess I won your little challenge, huh?” You remark, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Tell you what, why don’t you donate whatever money you were going to give me to a local animal shelter instead? I think it’ll be put to much better use there.”

The TikToker finally manages to pick his jaw up off the floor. He laughs shakily and nods. “Yeah ... yeah I can do that. Wow. Um, thanks for being such a good sport about this. And congrats on, uh, winning, I guess?”

You give him a friendly wink. “Anytime. Have a nice rest of your day!” With that, you turn gracefully on your heel and continue on your way back home, feeling rather smug and deeply appreciative of your wonderfully generous boyfriend.

“Wait!” The TikToker calls out after you. You glance back over your shoulder curiously. He hesitates before asking in an awed voice, “If you don’t mind me asking ... who the hell is your boyfriend?”

An enigmatic smile plays on your lips. “No one special really,” you reply breezily. “Just a guy who loves driving fast cars.”

You leave the gaping TikToker in your wake as you saunter off, already daydreaming about showing your appreciation to Charles later for being the most incredible boyfriend imaginable.

Maybe you really will splurge on those designer shoes after all … and pick up a little something special from the lingerie boutique next door while you’re at it.

Your smile widens. Just as a little thank you to your man, of course. Life is good when you’re in love with Charles Leclerc.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[luveline]

could you write bombshell!reader getting a tattoo of spencer’s name or something that reminds her of him and his reaction please?

“Why are you kissing me?” you mumble, your voice hoarse with sleep. 

They’re light kisses. “I’m going now,” Spencer says, matching your quiet tone. 

“No.” 

You wrap your arm behind his neck and feel his hair against your wrist. His nose and lips warm your jaw. 

“Yes.” He kisses your jaw. “I have to go, but I didn’t wanna leave without a kiss.” 

That’s really sweet, he’s so sweet, you’re so tired. “Please don’t go, Spencer.” 

“I have to go.” He readjusts your hugging to hum against your temple, distinctly content despite your pleading. “I’ll be back by six for dinner, promise.” 

“Promise,” you say.

You get to keep him for a few minutes, regardless. His neck must sing bent as he is over you but he doesn’t relent, doesn’t move until you encourage his face back to kiss just under his bottom lip. “Sorry, I’m making you late,” you whisper. 

“No, no, I accounted for this. You’re on my agenda.” 

“How much time did you allot?” you ask through a smile. 

“Seventeen minutes. That’s how long we usually hug in the morning.” 

“Gotta get that time down,” you say. 

“Or up.” He holds your face. You turn your head into his touch and keep him for just another half a minute. 

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes flutter closed again, “you can leave, I’m gonna go back to sleep.” 

“Good idea.” He kisses you, and he says goodbye. You’re sleeping again before he’s even left your room

When you wake properly, you still feel loved, like a sunburn but with less stinging. There’s something very special about your boy; something permanent about the way he loves. You can’t imagine he’ll ever stop loving you like this, he’s embedded you so deeply into his life and his routines (and you’d beg him to keep you if he ever changed his mind). That in itself is crazy. You can’t have imagined begging a guy to let you stay, but for Spencer, you would.  

When he comes home that night, half an hour before six, you have no regrets. 

You hadn’t noticed how he was dressed when he left, but he looks lovely in just a simple t-shirt and jeans. Remarkably casual for him, you used to think he only wore t-shirts to bed, but the older he gets the better propensity he has for comfort. What makes it for you is the cardigan. 

“You look nice,” you praise, more than satisfied when the first thing he does after he takes off his shoes is lean down to hug you where you’re sitting on his couch. 

“Thank you.” He pats your back and pulls away. “You’re beautiful,” he says with ease, like he’s commenting on the weather. “Good day?” 

Your lips pucker into a twist. 

“What?” he asks. 

Unfortunately, he sounds deeply worried. 

“No, it’s nothing, I just hurt my arm. Can you have a look?” 

Spencer takes your arm. “What did you do?” he asks, pulling the sleeve of your shirt carefully up to your elbow. The Saran wrap confuses him, until it doesn’t, and he grins at your skin, before frowning again. His flickering emotions worry you, until he says, “Is that mine?” 

You hold your arm in the light. “Of course it’s yours?” 

It’s just a few words from a note he wrote you, perhaps too soon into your relationship for sweetness, and yet one you kept anyways. He told you the story of the I Love You lighthouse, or rather, the Minot Ledge lighthouse, and how the man who lived there had to live on a different island to his family while tending the lighthouse, so he would flash the light once, then four times, and then three times, one flash for every letter of each corresponding word: I love you. The note was left on your dresser. You’d slept together the night before, but he had to leave early. Nowadays he wakes you up, but  back then he’d been too shy. 

I want to be able to do that for you but I can’t find a lighthouse in D.C. that will let me in to try. I’ll keep looking. 

“I’ll keep looking,” Spencer reads. His thumb heistates just under your small font.

“It’s from that note you left me.”

“I know, I remember.” He does his awful frowny face where his eyelids lower and you're sure he’ll never smile again, he looks that upset. “You know this is permanent?”

“They do tend to be,” you say with a lovelorn sigh. 

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should kiss you, or hug you, or… I don’t know why you’d do this.”

“But it’s okay?” you ask. It could make for a very awkward conversation if he doesn't like it.

“It’s perfect.” He holds your gaze. “You’re perfect.”

He acts like your tattoo is a gaping wound as he moves in to hug you, careful of your new ink, but relentless in the tightness of his arms behind your back. You laugh, then squeal at his insistence, a giggly girly thing that nobody else should ever hear but him. He doesn’t make fun of you, just squeezes you to him, his face pressed so hard to yours you can feel his cheekbones. 

“Now I just have to say something romantic for you to get tattooed and we’ll be equal again.’

“So we aren’t equal?”

“Um, no way.” Your laugh is self-satisfied and breathless. You turn your lips to his cheek. “I love you. I’m gonna build you a lighthouse.”

“Can’t believe you kept that note.”

“I have a whole shoebox of them. I love that you write them.”

He stops holding himself up, half on the couch and half in your lap as he hugs you with every bit of strength in his arms.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ - discussion of postpartum depression, lactation kink.

Orion’s father inserted himself into your life with an authority that, quite frankly, has shocked you.

You expected him to be a dead beat. An absentee. You never really expected to find him in the first place, let alone almost run straight into him on the street.

It was almost like you could feel him on the sidewalk before you saw him. Your body knew, still carried the memories, the imprint of him lingering on your skin, inside you. Orion had his DNA in his veins, and now you had Orion’s in yours.

Shared pieces, twisted together into an imbalanced double helix-

Exposing you for all your transgressions, your failures, your misery.

It’s a special kind of shame, to look your baby’s father in the face and tell him you’re not a good mother to his child. That you’re failing Orion. That you don’t know if you can do it.

The truth is motherhood is not natural or beautiful, like everyone says it is, and it doesn’t come easy, like it seems to do for most. You don’t even feel like you’re bonded to your son, and it’s like you’re a stranger to him. More failure.

They pile advice on top of you in heaps, your mother, your aunts, the friends that have stuck around, sleep when the baby sleeps, let him cry it out, don’t let him cry it out, put him down, pick him up, don’t feed at night, don’t miss a feeding-

All the while, no one shows up. Not truly. They’re here, and there, but your previous fierce independent streak has done you no favors, and no one seems to notice you’re barely holding your head above water. They want to see the baby, hold the baby, cuddle the baby. No one wants to help you wash your milk crusted sheets or clothes, no one wants to pick up your groceries or do your dishes. They want to bring a roast for your fridge, and then they want Orion.

And it’s easy to fake getting by. Struggling but smiling. Motherhood is such a joy. It’s so wonderful. Being a single mom is tough, but worth it. It’s…

It’s so hard.

You don’t have a schedule, a life, a sense of normalcy. Instead of sleeping when Ry does, you cry. You don’t feel like yourself, you don’t know how to do this, you don’t know how you’re even going to make it to the next day sometimes.

And no one really seems to notice you, until Simon shows up.

Simon, who doesn’t seem to care that you’ve tried to assure him you’re fine. Simon, for all intents and purposes, has put a foot down and refused to budge. Simon, who no matter how hard you try to tell him you’re okay, has shouldered his way into your life without a single complaint about the sudden fatherhood thrust upon him.

He’s a stranger, at the end of it all, a man you shared a single night with, a man you know almost nothing about.

Even though that night has always felt like so much more, an impossible connection built in the dark between indecipherable words and whispers.

And now this stranger has planted on himself on the ground in front of you, like a tether to reality. A land line to your sanity. A hand to hold…

A person who sees you.

“I’m right here,” he promised, “I’m going to take care of you.”

He wanted in, and you stopped coming up with reasons or excuses to fend him off. You bent and bent and bent under the pressure of being a mother until you broke-

And he was there.

Someone is calling your name. There’s a gentle hand on your shoulder, and then smoothing over your forehead, fingertips lingering on the apple of your cheek. You blink fuzzily, slowly realizing you must have fallen asleep on the couch. “C’mon mama, let’s get you to bed.” You peer over his shoulder at the kitchen, barely registering how clean it is, the lack of dirty dishes, the empty trash can, the wiped down cabinets and countertops.

“Sorry… I fell asleep. I should’ve-“

“It’s alright, wanted to let you get some rest.” His arms, massive and corded with muscle, slide under your knees and back, and you study his tattoos as intently as you can, for being half asleep. “‘m gonna pick you up.”

“Okay.” You sigh, and his chest vibrates with a low chuckle. It feels safe, you feel nearly relaxed, no fight left in you, all resistance and denial leeched from your bones. “Ry?”

“Fed two hours ago with what you had in the fridge. Still asleep now.” Warmth ghosts atop your head, and you snuggle farther into his chest, unable to help yourself.

“How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours.” You blink, and then, like his words have summoned full body awareness- you wince.

Fuck.

“What is it?” He’s immediately tense, slowly pushing open your bedroom door.

“I’m… sore.” You grimace, trying to keep your chest away from him as he lowers you into bed. “They’re… he usually eats… sooner. They get… too full.” Your face burns, humiliated and awkward. Nothing like telling your very attractive baby daddy that you’re full too of milk. His head cocks.

“Is there a way to fix that?” He’s sitting at your hip, hand casually braced on your thigh, thumb rubbing circles overtop the sheet.

“I could pump but, it really hurts.” Your voice cracks on the admission. You can’t imagine anything you want to do less in this moment, especially with him here. “A warm washcloth usually helps but…”

“I’ll get one.” He tips forward at the waist, and presses a kiss right to your forehead. “Stay put.” You lean back against the pillows, and close your eyes. You hear him the bathroom, tap running, door opening and closing, and then the bed dips. “Can I help you with that?” He points at your t shirt, and you nod. Lifting it over your own head sounds uncomfortable, and you don’t even flinch when his fingers brush your stomach as he peels it up and over.

There’s a moment, a quiet one, where you just stare at each other. His eyebrows crease, dark brown eyes turning soft and sweet, flicking down to your lips and then back up. It’s frighteningly intimate, being so vulnerable, rubbed raw by motherhood and then comforted by the man who gave it to you, and when you look into his eyes, you can feel it all, everything you felt that night, the connection, the desire to know more, feel more, push past everything and dig until your strike true, until you can touch his heart.

Maybe it’s the hormones. The baby. The fact that he’s here, holding you steady, true to his promise.

You loop a forearm over the back of his neck, and tug, jolting him forward, close enough that your noses touch, and his lips graze yours before he pulls back, cradling your face with his free hand. “Want somethin’ mama?”

“Yes.” You whisper. Your breasts ache, but the pain is second to the way you drown in his dark gaze.

“Need you to ask for it, sweet girl.”

“I- I want… to kiss you.” It feels like taking a plunge, ripping a band aid off, and he only smiles at you in return, before leaning in and pressing his mouth to yours.

It’s a memory. An explosion. A rush of the last time, the first time, the only time. Ocean water, spring air, woodsmoke under your fingertips. Fragments of a few favorite things, sealed in a kiss. A dizzying ride that sucks you dry, spills your blood into his, twists the two of together until you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to let go.

You almost, almost whine when he pulls away.

“Washcloth is cold.” He murmurs, making his way back to the bathroom and restarting the process. His muscles flex under his t shirt as he turns the sink on and off, wringing the cloth out. You unhook a bra strap, and when he returns to the seat at your hip, you gulp.

“T-thanks.” You reach, but don’t tug it into your grasp. Instead, the side of your arm bumps against the swollen firmness of your breast, and you hiss.

“I’ve got you. Let me help.” He says softly, peeling the fabric away until you’re exposed, darkened nipple straining in the dim light of your bedroom. Fingertips trace barely there touch across your skin, and he whispers reverently. “You feed our baby with these, mama.”

“They hurt.” Your voice trembles, and he nods sympathetically.

“I know.” He presses the cloth to your skin, brow furrowed with concentration. His eyes flick up to yours, and then back down, thumb gently rubbing a semi circle under the curve of your breast. “Feel okay?” His voice is a rasp, and you nod.

“Y-yeah… um-“ you trail off, half wishing you could disappear into this bed. “I need a little bit of pressure, to help… express.” It’s the least sexiest word in the English language, you think. Express.

He palms you, gently, and then squeezes with easy pressure. The sound you make is a half moan, half gasp of pain, and he soothes you. “I know honey, I know. I’m sorry.” You tip your head back, waiting, hoping to feel the slow pulse of relief, the slow give of an ache subsiding. His thumb traces your nipple and then rolls over it, still kneading and pressing with his other fingers and palm, hot cloth starting to turn cool.

And then-

You feel it. Your body catches up to your brain, finally leaking, warmth spilling over his hand, down the front of your bra and belly. “Oh my god.” You moan, and he huffs, still rubbing your nipple in a soothing pattern, gaze locked on your chest.

“Good girl.” He murmurs, and then gives you another squeeze. “Feel good?”

“Yeah.” You tip your head to the side, watching him, tracing his nose, his lips, the shape of his eyes. Your baby’s face, through and through. “So good.” It spills over the back of his fingers and he pulls it away, lifting his thumb to his mouth. His lashes flutter against his cheeks, and a noise rumbles in his chest. “Oh-“ you lose your words. Your thoughts. Your focus. You’re frozen, confused and electric like a live wire.

“Y’taste good mama. Sweet.” You gulp. He ducks his head, brushing his lips against yours briefly before dipping lower, cupping as much of you as he can and swirling his tongue across your nipple, lips closing around it and sucking with a satisfied sigh.

“Si- Simon.” It feels good. It feels wrong, that it feels good, but it does. You’re spilling into his mouth, pain and soreness flitting away by the second, strong arms cradling you close to his body. It’s the first time in a long time, that you’ve felt something, anything, close to desire. Arousal has been fleeting since having a baby, but somehow, fire burns between your legs. He pulls away, nipple popping free, and you sag in the bed. With a smirk, his eyes wander to your other side, the unattended one, heavy and full beneath his gaze.

“I’ll get a new cloth.”

#peaches writes #through me (the flood) #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #phone writing so mind the mistakes

[finelinefae]

sunshine girl (tutor!harry)

synopsis: y/n struggles to concentrate and harry offers to help

word count: 6.6k

contains: reader has adhd, fluff, mentions of mental health, brief mention of medication, shy harry

a/n: i haven't written a soft girl sunday concept in a while and this was requested on wattpad quite some time ago. I personally do not have adhd but I've tried my best to research as much as i could in order to write this. if there's anything wrong or anything i need to change, pls let me know as I'm completely open to understanding and learning more !!!!! <333

. . .

Harry’s eyes darted to the seat next to his as the professor stood in front of the class to begin the lecture. His notebook was open, his pen in hand already prepared to take notes on the current book they were studying for their literature class. He chewed the inside of his cheek, his left foot adorned by a high-top, black Converse shoe tapping against the floor. 

His ears pricked when the door clicked open and his sunshine girl walked into the room, bringing the light in with her. “Hi,” Y/N blushed, bowing her head down in hopes it would divert people’s attention back to the professor and not to her tardiness, “Sorry I’m late,” 

The professor didn’t seem surprised but was no more impressed by her lateness. He shook his head and returned to his place in the presentation.

Harry stiffened as she slid into the seat beside him, catching the sweet smell of her perfume. It smelt exactly like the cinnamon latte he had that morning and the salted caramel ice cream he ate after dinner last night. All the sweet things he came across reminded him of her. 

Her baby pink ballet flat accidentally hit against the tip of his beaten, old Converse. He inhaled, sensing her attention on him and finally looking at her face. “Hi Harry,” She whispered, smiling. Her cheeks were still pink from how flustered she was walking into class. Her hair was in a messy braid, secured with a silk scrunchie on the end and she looked so cosy in the pink, knitted sweater and blue jeans she had decided to wear. 

“Hey,” Harry replied. He wouldn’t often find himself replying to people in class - not that he spoke to many people anyway - but he’d always respond to Y/N, always. 

Y/N grinned, pulling out her notebooks from her backpack and placing them on the desk. The corner of Harry’s lips tugged upwards when he saw each of her notebooks labelled in pink sharpie pen with the names of her classes scribbled across them. 

“Oh no,” She huffed, “I left my literature notebook on my desk,” 

Before she could even ask, Harry was already scrambling to tear out a few pages from the back of his notebook. “Here,” Harry offers, sliding the paper to the side.

“Thanks Harry,” Y/N beamed, taking out her pen which had a little charm dangling on the end and began to write the date in the top corner like she always did at the start of a new lesson. 

Throughout the lecture, Harry remained wholly focused on the professor who began to go through Act 2 of Shakespeare's ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Literature had always been his favourite class not only because he got to sit next to Y/N but also because he loved to read. It was all he ever did whenever he had a moment spare, a book was never out of reach wherever he was. 

Speaking of Y/N, Harry glanced across to see if she’d taken any notes during the lecture. He looked down at her piece of paper only to find her scribbling doodles along the lines and edges of the page he had given her. He wasn’t surprised, Y/N always seemed to lose interest midway through the lecture, but he was concerned especially since they were so close to exams. 

“Um, Y/N?” Harry whispered, her head darting in his direction, “Do you want to copy my notes?”

She frowned, looking down at her piece of paper and then over at his notebook where he had filled up three pages with writing. “Oops,” She murmured, “I must have drifted off,” 

“S okay,” Harry assured, “Y’ can take pictures of my notes if y’ want after class,” 

“Are you sure?” Harry could sense her frustration from the dip between her brow, “I’ll take notes for the rest of the lecture.”

Harry nodded, turning his attention back to the professor, hearing Y/N’s pen scribbling against the desk as she vigorously took notes. Which lasted all of fifteen minutes. 

When the lecture finished, Harry caught Y/N gazing out the window, her attention fixed on the clouds drifting across the bright, blue sky. “You can collect your assignments on the way out,” The professor dismissed the class, chairs scraping against the floor as everyone made their way for the door.

“Um, Y/N?” Harry tapped her shoulder. 

“Hm?” She spun around, her big, pretty eyes looking right up at him.

Harry motioned to the front of the class where the students had emptied out, “The class is over,”

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room. She straightened her shoulders when she realised they were the last two people in the room like she had just snapped out of a daze, “Oh, already?”

Harry didn’t want to tell her that the class was two hours long so he just nodded. He waited patiently, even though he had another class to attend, not wanting to leave her behind. Y/N rushed to pack her things away, scrunching the paper he had given her which was covered in doodles and a few sentences as she tried to stuff into her backpack. 

On the way out, they both collected the assignments they had handed in before the weekend. Harry sighed in relief to see the big 95 written in red ink on his paper. He wasn’t one to struggle often with the literature homework but this one had been particularly challenging. 

“Oh no,” A tiny whimper escaped her lips as she held the paper in her hands.

Harry’s eyes looked down to see the 60 circled in the top corner of her paper. “How could this happen?” 

“I-it’s okay Y/N,” He was terrible at comforting people, “A 70 is good, you still passed.”

“Barely,” Y/N whined, creasing the edges of the paper from how hard she was gripping onto it. “What am I going to do? I can’t seem to focus at all during the lesson, maybe it’s Newton being so boring but everything seems to go through one ear and out the other.” 

Harry watched her flail her arms as she explained how much she struggled in all her classes, especially literature. He had noticed how she’d often drift off somewhere in her own head whenever they had a presentation or how she’d forget things or turn up late because she was wandering off somewhere or getting completely distracted. 

Despite the little time he had on his timetable, Harry piped up, “I can tutor you, i-if you’d like I mean.” 

Y/N paused, “Really? You’d do that?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have a free afternoon on Wednesdays.” It was his only free afternoon throughout the whole week. Harry always looked forward to his afternoons off on a Wednesday which he dedicated solely to spending time doing things he enjoyed or relaxing. 

“Are you sure? You must be so busy already with all your other classes and clubs,” His cheeks warmed, wondering how she knew he had very little time and whether it meant she watched him as much as he paid attention to her. 

“O-of course, I really don’t mind.” Which was the truth.

Harry had been secretly crushing on Y/N ever since she had stumbled into their literature classroom on the first day of University. She was like a fresh breeze that cooled the last bit of summer humidity as she walked straight over to the seat beside him in the lecture hall and introduced herself to him. He didn’t know how all of a sudden he’d find himself all flustered whenever he was in her vicinity but for someone who wasn’t really a ‘people person’, he enjoyed her company very much. 

“I can’t say it’ll be easy,” Y/N murmured, looking down at her shoes in what felt like shame or embarrassment.

“You can’t be that bad,” Harry joked but she just smiled awkwardly. 

“I have ADHD,” She admitted like it was something to be ashamed of, “I-I’ve had it since I was little. It’s why I often find myself drifting off or forgetting things. I just can’t seem to focus on one thing. It's like my brain is constantly overlapping words and sentences and pictures and moments and I can’t organise them into their separate spaces.”

Harry’s face softened. He’d known people with ADHD before. A boy in his class back in high school who was constantly disrupting the class and was taken out of class whenever the teacher didn’t have the knowledge to know how to deal with it.  “I’m good at literature Harry, really I am. I just struggle to show it. I started the essay the night it was set but then I lost track of time and I didn’t pick it up again until yesterday.”

“Y/N,” Harry said, “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. ‘S not a bad thing, it’s just something y’ have to learn to deal with.” 

Y/N felt at ease at his words of comfort, a small smile curving on her lips, “Are you sure you still want to tutor me? It’s okay if not, I know I can be a little difficult but I promise I’ll try and remember everything and turn up on time and I won’t interrupt you when you speak or go off topic because I know I do that a lot. In fact, one time I was having a conversation with my roommate Lila and we were talking about what pizza toppings we preferred and I somehow ended up talking about women’s rights.” 

Harry grinned at her rambling, “I still want to tutor you, Y/N. We can start tomorrow? Is that okay?”

She nods, “That sounds good. Thank you, Harry. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Okay,” He nods his head once, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“O-Okay! Tomorrow,” She beams, “Oh! And do you want my phone number? Just in case,”

Harry’s lips parted, pausing for a moment to take in what she had just said, “S-sure, yeah sure,” He stumbled to grab his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. His fingers brushed against her soft hands as he passed the phone to her so she could type in her number, he watched as she put a pink heart next to her name. 

“Okay, I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later!” She grins and rushes to get to her next class.

Harry stands in the same spot for a moment, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his phone screen. He looks down at her name almost in disbelief that he actually had her phone number. He then notices the time and curses aloud, realising he’s fifteen minutes late to his next class. 

. . . 

From, Y/N:

Hey Harry, completely forgot to ask where we were planning to study tomorrow ?? x

From Y/N: 

That’s if you’re still up to tutor me. Totally okay if not !! x 

From Y/N: 

It’s okay if you have other things going on x

From Y/N:

It’s Y/N by the way x

Harry felt the vibrations from his phone resting right next to his head as he lay on his bed with his laptop propped open and an episode of Big Bang Theory playing quietly on the television screwed to his wall. 

As soon as he lifted his phone, the screen lit up and he caught a glimpse of the pink heart emoji on his lock screen. He shot up in bed, reading the text messages sent to him only five minutes ago. His pulse hastened at the little kiss at the end of each message, he wondered if she sent those to all her friends. 

From Harry:

Hey, it’s fine. I’m happy to tutor you Y/N :) 

From Harry:

We can meet up at the library, I can reserve one of the study rooms if that helps? 

It wasn’t long before he received a reply. 

From Y/N: 

Oh good !! The library sounds good. Thank you again for doing this Harry, I can’t thank u enough x

From Harry:

It’s okay! Honestly it is. Don’t need to keep thanking me love x

He didn't think twice before sending the message, and by the time he realised what he’d written, she had already read it.

From Y/N:

Thank you Harry xx

From Y/N:

Oops

From Y/N:

Can’t wait to see you ! xx 

Harry released a long breath after reading her last text message. He threw his phone across the bed and fell back, running his fingers through his hair a few times. 

He resumed his work on his computer, trying his best not to pick up his phone again as he eagerly waited for tomorrow to come. 

. . .

Harry was ten minutes early to the library even when he had tried to be right on time. 

The school’s librarian, Heather, was no stranger to his presence as he walked through the doors with his backpack over one shoulder and a tote bag on the other. He walked straight towards the study room he had booked last night for this afternoon in particular. 

It was nothing but a desk and empty walls with a window looking out to the car park. Harry had thought it best to minimise distractions for Y/N to stay focused. He pulled out the things he had packed in the blue tote he carried, highlighters and sticky notes and an old planner he had in his desk drawer that he scribbled her name on. 

Not long after he had set everything up, a small knock sounded at the door and in walked Y/N. She was wearing light blue jeans and a lilac hoodie that was covered in some kind of grey paint, “Hello,” She smiled, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, “Sorry, I had a pottery class off-campus and didn’t have time to change,” She motioned to the stains on her clothing. 

“That’s okay,” Harry’s heart palpitated as she stepped into his vicinity- that sweet-smelling perfume replacing the dusty air, “I didn’t know you did pottery.” He didn’t know much about her other than what they had talked about in class, a rush of excitement overcame him at the thought of getting to know her more. 

Y/N sat down, putting her bag at her feet, “It’s just a hobby,” She shrugged it off, glancing at the things Harry had neatly laid out in front of her, “So what’s all this?”

A dusty pink glow spread across Harry’s cheeks, “I-I did some research last night,”

A dip formed between her brows, “Really?”

Harry nodded, “I spent some time researching the best ways for people with ADHD to focus and learn the best they can. A lot of it was setting realistic goals and breaking things down but it also helps to use colours which is why I bought my sticky notes and highlighters in case we have to take any notes.”

Y/N was pretty sure her pupils had carved into hearts as she looked at him and listened as he explained the things he had been researching. “I thought we could study for about an hour and a half today and work in twenty-minute increments with ten-minute breaks in between.” Y/N was at a loss for words. She couldn’t remember the last person who had gone out of their way to learn these things for her. 

Harry waited for her to reply, seeing the way her eyes glossed over, “I-is that okay? No problem if not, we can always find a different way of working-”

“No,” She placed a hand atop his, the tips of his fingers flinched and brushed the palm of her hand, “It sounds perfect.” 

Harry smiles, “Well okay, shall we start off with Midsummer Night’s Dream?” 

. . .

“Hey Y/N?” Harry waved a hand in front of her face. They were coming onto the last twenty-minute sprint of studying and Harry had noticed Y/N suddenly starting to zone out a little more. 

“Oh sorry,” She blushed, “I was thinking about the banana milkshakes they’ve put on the menu at the cafe where I do my pottery classes.” 

Harry closed his notebook, “They have a cafe?” 

“Mhm,” Y/N grins, “I can show you if you’d like. Maybe after we finish studying.” 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This was their first time hanging out together off-campus. Something he had been daydreaming about whenever she sat beside him. He’d been mulling over the idea of asking her on a date for weeks and despite the fact she’d invited him to her favourite spot as a friend, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement at the prospect of getting to spend even more time with her. 

Harry pretended to glance down at his watch, “Seems like we’re coming to the end already, w-we could go now if you want to?” 

Y/N closed her notebook shut, “Okay then!” 

Harry tugged on his jacket and piled all his books into his backpack. Following her out of the library and towards her pottery studio.

He couldn’t help the smile on his face as she walked with a slight pep in her step as they walked side by side. Harry had never been much of a talker but there was never a moment of silence between the two as Y/N rambled and wandered off into every topic of conversation she could possibly think of. 

“So I’ve started making plates for my mum’s birthday—oh, she got a new car, by the way! It’s an old, vintage blue Beetle. She sent me pictures the other day, and it’s so pretty. For a moment, I wanted to take driving lessons just so I could drive one, but I’ve got terrible coordination. Honestly, Harry, I can’t ever seem to tell my lefts from my rights these days and—oh, what was I talking about again? Yes, the plates I made for her birthday. So, I’m going to paint them baby blue to match the car and—”

Harry listened intently, hanging onto every word she said and mentally filing it away under her name. Occasionally, he would share his own stories, but for the most part, he was content to listen to her voice. In fact, it thrilled him to know how comfortable she was to talk about anything and everything with him. 

They eventually stopped outside of a small building with ‘Paisley’s Pottery Studio’ written on a wooden plaque above the door. 

Y/N pushed the door open, the bell chiming as she stepped inside with Harry close behind her. She offered to take Harry’s jacket to hang up on the coat pegs and switched it over for two aprons already covered in dried clay stains. 

“Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve been working on,” Y/N said, a hint of excitement in her voice as she led Harry through the studio. The space was filled with shelves of pottery in various stages of completion, the air rich with the earthy smell of clay.

They reached a small workbench near the back of the studio where a few plates were laid out, each one uniquely shaped.

“Here they are,” Y/N said, picking up one of the plates. “This is the baby blue I was talking about. I’m trying to match it perfectly to my mum’s car. What do you think?”

Harry took the plate, admiring the soft, pale blue colour that coated its surface. “It’s beautiful, Y/N. You’ve done an amazing job. The colour is perfect.”

Y/N beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Thank you! I’ve been trying to get it just right. And look, this one has little daisies around the edge,” she said, pointing to another plate. “My mum loves daisies.”

Harry smiled, appreciating the delicate details. “You’re really talented. I didn’t know you were into pottery.”

“It’s kind of my escape,” Y/N admitted. “It helps me focus, you know? It’s one of the few things that can hold my attention for hours.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “I-I’ve been meaning to ask before we left to come here, did you find the study session useful today?”

Y/N immediately nodded, “I learnt so much Harry. I know you said I don’t need to thank you anymore but you’ve been so kind. My parents have hired tutors for me ever since I was little but they always got frustrated with me. I was worried you’d feel the same way.” 

“No one should make you feel like you’re not worthy of their time just because it requires more patience,” Harry says.

Y/N’s eyes shine with emotion, “You might be the kindest person I’ve ever met,” She says, “Which is why I wanted to bring you here. I’ve never shared my pottery with anyone.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, “Really?” 

Y/N’s smile softened. “Really. And now I get to share it with you. Do you want to try making something?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? I’ve never done pottery before.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N chimed. “I’ll teach you. It’s fun, I promise.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, “Alright, let’s do it.”

Y/N led Harry to a nearby pottery wheel, explaining the basics as she set up the clay. Whilst he sat on one side, she sat opposite him, straddling the seat and grabbing a thick, piece of clay in her hands.  “Just relax and let the clay guide you,” she said, her hands gently shaping the mound of clay on the wheel.

Harry watched, captivated by the fluid movements of her hands. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on the clay, feeling its cool, pliable texture.

“Like this?” he asked, glancing at Y/N.

“Exactly,” she replied but then placed either of her hands over the top of his. “Just keep your movements steady and even.”

Harry tried to remain neutral as the soft skin of her hand touched his fingers. He’d try to keep his attention on the way she moved the clay but every now and then he’d feel himself overwhelmed at the simple touch of the girl he had been enamoured with for far longer than he’d like to admit. 

Minutes turned into an hour, and Harry found himself enjoying the process more than he expected. The feel of the clay, the steady rotation of the wheel, and Y/N’s gentle words of encouragement. 

“It’s good!” Y/N held the clay bowl up in the palm of her hand. 

Harry scoffed but smiled, “You’re just saying that it looks more like a plate than a bowl.” His first clay creation was meant to look like a bowl but some might deem it to be a little more like a wonky flying disk. 

Y/N giggled, “At least you could still eat food from it.” She walked over and placed it on a tray with Harry’s initials carved into the bottom. “These will be put in the kiln later. I can bring it to you in class once it’s ready?”

“O-okay,” Harry nodded, “Or I could just come by and get it? I think I’d like to have another try maybe,” That and he wanted to spend more time with her even if it meant taking up a new hobby in the little spare time he had. 

Y/N didn’t mask the surprise on her face which gradually transformed into the biggest smile he had ever seen. He swore it hit him like an arrow piercing straight into his heart, “Really? You’d want to come back?”

“Of course, maybe I could teach you English lit and you could teach me y’ pottery?” He offered.

“I’d love that.”

. . . 

Wednesday’s had become Harry’s favourite day of the week. 

It was funny how quickly the days went by when you had something to look forward to. When it wasn’t Wednesday, Harry was always counting down the days until it was. 

In the afternoon, he’d meet with Y/N outside of the library so they could walk inside together to their study room where he’d tutor her for a good two hours. Afterwards, they’d walk down to the pottery studio in the nearby town where Y/N would teach Harry how to make clay pots. 

His own kitchen was becoming a museum of clay creations he had made and painted himself. Each one served as a reminder of a particular Wednesday he’d spent with Y/N, triggering a memory or conversation they had shared. 

His feelings only seemed to heighten the more they fell into conversation, talking about everything and anything they possibly could. He cherished every moment he spent with her and even then he couldn’t get enough. Whenever it wasn’t Wednesday, he craved her presence and the sweet-smelling perfume she wore. 

Harry was already heading towards the library one particular Wednesday afternoon when he received a text from Y/N.

From Y/N:

Hey Harry, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to be able to make today’s session. I left all my work last minute and now I have three classes to catch up on before tomorrow. So sorry, I really wanted to make it xx

Harry frowned as he read the message, feeling a pang of disappointment quickly replaced by concern. 

From Harry: 

It’s okay! We can just pick up where we left off from next week. Is there anything you need help with? 

From Y/N:Hm, don’t suppose you’re any good at poetry? xx

From Harry:

I’ve dabbled here and there ;)

From Y/N: 

Dabbled? Perfect!! Would it be okay if you stopped by? I’m STRUGGLING xx

From Harry:

I’d be happy too 

From Y/N:

Okay! I’ll text you my address. Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver truly xx

Harry felt a thrill of excitement as he watched Y/N’s address appear on the screen. He quickly typed the address into Google Maps and began making his way towards her apartment, anticipation building with each step.

Along the way, he stopped by a flower shop, the words ‘Sweet Juniper’ written on the window and a large display of beautifully arranged flowers decorating the front. He found it rather humorous when he saw the tattoo parlour next door, the dark aesthetic completely differing from the pastel colours of the flower shop. 

Sometime later, Harry stood at the entrance, taking in the charming exterior of Y/N’s apartment building. As he pressed the buzzer, his excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. “Hello? Harry?” Y/N’s voice crackled over the speaker. 

“H-hey,” He said, “S me.”

“Oh! Stay there, I’ll come get you.”  He did as he was told, standing beneath the porch as he waited for Y/N. 

It wasn’t long before Y/N pushed the glass door open and stood in front of him. It was the first he’d seen of her all day and she looked so cosy and soft in her grey sweatpants and pink sweater, a pair of black slip-on shoes on her feet that she’d put on to come downstairs in. 

“Hi Harry,” She smiles, the sight casting away the grey clouds. 

“Hey Y/N,” He returns her smile and holds out the flowers for her, “I bought these for you, figured they might cheer y’ up.”

Y/N’s whole face lit up as she took the bouquet from him, “They’re beautiful,” She gasped, “I’ll put these in my room,” 

He followed her upstairs and to her apartment, making light conversation along the way. He laughs at something particularly funny she said about a conversation she had with her mother last night which reminded him he needed to call his own mother, who he hadn’t spoken to nearly as much as he should have these past few weeks. 

Closing the door behind them, Harry took in the exterior of her apartment. It was small, the perfect size for two people, most of the furniture was from the tenant who used to live there before they moved to France. 

“My roommate is away so it’s all good,” She says, leading him to her room. 

Y/N’s room was closest to the living room. As Harry stepped inside, he felt as though he was entering a cosy, intimate space that truly reflected her personality. The room was a soft haven of pink hues and delicate decor. The walls were painted a gentle blush, complemented by sheer white curtains that allowed light to filter through softly, casting a warm glow over everything.

“Sorry about the mess,” She cringed, kicking something underneath her single bed which was covered in papers and notebooks much like the small desk in the corner. She placed the flowers in an old vase on her windowsill, replacing the old ones that were losing their petals. 

“S okay,” Harry stood awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. 

Y/N made space for him on the bed, patting the spot beside her with a welcoming smile. Harry tried to play it cool as he sat down next to her, but inside, his heart was racing. The reality of being so close to her in such an intimate setting was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his excitement in check.

The bed felt soft and warm beneath him, a perfect match for the cosy atmosphere of the room. He glanced at Y/N, who seemed completely at ease and took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her presence was comforting, and he reminded himself to savour the moment rather than overthink it.

She grabbed a purple spiral notebook which she seemed to have ripped a few of the pages out of and threw them in the trash can beneath her desk, “I have to write a poem to present to my creative writing class,” She says. Her sock-covered feet dangled off the bed as they sat next to each other with their backs against the wall. 

“O-Oh and it has to be handed in tomorrow?” He asks. 

Y/N huffs, “I thought I had way more time so I’ve just been putting everything off. I’ve also been given new ADHD meds which I don’t know have been helping very much.”

A wave of understanding rushed over him. Harry had never been prescribed daily pills before other than the antibiotics he was given in the winter when he had a chest infection that plagued him for almost two weeks. Although he couldn’t relate to her situation, he knew having to take pills repeatedly was no easy task especially when they had an impact on your ability to carry out day-to-day things. 

He took the notebook and pen from her lap and ripped out a bit of paper to write on. “Well luckily for you, you picked just the right person to help you out.” He teased, trying to lighten the mood because he knew she was beating herself up over all of it.

Y/N’s lips quirked, “You’re that good at poetry?”

“I was writing poetry and putting them into girl’s lockers when I was seven years old. Let’s just say, I’ve had practice,”  

“Okay Bukowski, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Harry chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Alright, challenge accepted," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He took a moment to think, twirling the pen between his fingers as he glanced around the room for inspiration. The soft glow of the fairy lights, the cosy blanket draped over the bed, and the serene expression on Y/N’s face all seemed to meld together into a perfect moment.

He began to write, the words flowing easily once he found his rhythm. He stole glances at Y/N as he wrote, drawing inspiration from her presence and the warmth she radiated.

After a few minutes, he put the pen down and handed the paper to Y/N. "Alright, here goes nothing. Don't laugh, okay?"

Y/N took the paper with a playful roll of her eyes. "No promises," she teased, but her expression softened as she began to read the words on the page written in his scribbly handwriting. 

Every word she took in had her heart dancing within her chest. 

‘She is sunshine, light pours from her’ 

‘She is sweeter than my own solitude’ 

There was beauty in every line. Everything he had written pulled and tugged at her, evoking this feeling that flooded through her that she had spent the past few weeks trying to keep at bay until she reached the final line. 

‘I watch her hands create beauty from the earth’s clay, 

Does she know I also spin on the wheel, feeling her hands mould me, shape me, bend to her desire any way she wants?

“Is it good?” Harry asked, not enjoying the extended period of silence they were in as she read the poem. He had only tossed words together in hopes of creating something good enough for her to present to her class, he wouldn’t be surprised if she hated it. 

But instead, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glistening with an emotion he couldn’t place. “D-did you write this about someone?” She asked.

Harry’s face heated, “U-um, not that I can think of,” He lies. 

Y/N nods, “Do you know a lot of girls who do pottery in their spare time?”

Harry’s eyes lock with hers, an invisible connection passing through them. The air thickened around them, his heart suddenly pounding against his chest, desperate for something he had been wanting for far too long now. 

“O-Only one,” He admits.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled looking like the fairy lights on the walls of her bedroom. Harry’s eyes darted down to her lips and then back up again. “Harry,” Y/N whispers, fiddling with the bit of paper with his poem written on it, “T-this is a really pretty poem.” 

“Y-you think your class will like it?” 

“I don’t think I want to show this poem to my class,” She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed. 

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice lowered, “It’s not very good anyway.”

“That’s not the reason,” Y/N's lips curved into a warm, genuine smile, “I think I’d much rather keep it for myself, if that’s okay.” 

Harry's heart raced as he looked into her eyes, seeing the depth of her feelings mirrored in his own. "No, that’s okay.," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. 

She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed. Her eyes searched his, “Harry?”

“Wha’s wrong?” He swallowed the air he breathed. 

“C-can I kiss you?”

Harry felt a lump form in his throat as he searched for the right words, his heart pounding in his chest. Every moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely, each breath feeling heavier than the last. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He knew he couldn't hide his feelings any longer, not from her. With trembling hands, he reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch tender and hesitant. 

“H-Harry,” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

Unable to find the words, he leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest until their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet and gentle. Whilst one hand cupped her cheek, the other moved to her waist gripping it hard and tugging her in closer. One of Y/N’s hands gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in so she could deepen the kiss. 

He couldn’t help but smile the longer his lips pressed against the plush, soft touch of hers. Y/N felt his lips curve and smiled too, a breathy laugh escaping her, “What?” 

Harry shook his head, his eyes hazy and lips pinker than usual, “Nothing,” He shook his head but his smile never faded, “Jus’... I’ve been dreaming of this moment for what feels like forever.”

“You have?” Y/N smiles, her cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” He kissed her again quickly, “I’ve liked you for so long.”

Y/N tugged on the sleeve of his sweater, fiddling with a loose thread, “I like you too Harry,” She admits and suddenly his world felt a little less lonely and a whole lot brighter.

. . .

“Sunshine,” Harry slurred against her lips as they moulded together. She was sitting on the table in an empty classroom with him standing between her legs. “We’ve got to get to class,” he murmured, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as his hands roamed her waist and hers tangled in his hair.

Y/N’s legs brushed against his as she swung them back and forth. If they were to leave the comfort of the quiet classroom, there was no doubt people would know what they had been up to. They had been walking to their English Lit lecture together when Harry recited a line from the play they were studying. Without warning, Y/N had dragged him into the nearest empty classroom and kissed him before he even had time to register what was going on.

“But we could stay here?” she heaved, pulling away and pouting.

Harry smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, but we’ve got a test coming up soon.”

“And you’ve already taught me all I need to know,” she countered, her eyes twinkling.

Despite dating now, their tutoring sessions hadn’t ended. They saw each other every single day, spending time at each other’s apartments and trying to meet up whenever they both had a free period so they could sit and eat lunch together or make out somewhere. But Wednesday afternoons were still dedicated to tutoring, and then Y/N would take him down to the pottery studio afterwards where they’d decompress.

He still hadn’t mastered the art of creating bowls or plates in the same way Y/N had, but the cupboards of his kitchen were slowly filling up with wonky cutlery and multi-coloured dishes. 

Harry smiled lazily, feeling the cotton of her pink cardigan between his fingertips. “C’mon sunshine,” He murmured. 

“Fine,” She huffed, pressing another kiss to his lips before sliding off the desk. “Oh no, I forgot my notebook again,” She huffed.

Harry laughed, reaching for her hand and threading their fingers together, “Don’t worry I bought an extra.” He always packed extra everything whenever he was with Y/N because it didn’t matter how many times he reminded her, she always seemed to forget. 

“Thank you,” Y/N grinned, “I swear I packed it with me last night when we were watching that movie which by the way you’re going to have to explain to me the ending because I was too busy,” Harry was going to remind her he had tried to get her attention back to the film but she was focused on playing a game on his phone the entire time, “Oo and tonight when you come to my place we can finally try that new ice cream flavour I bought from the store and- oh yeah the movie, so I basically stopped watching at the point where the girl falls into the water. Wait, what was I talking about before that again?”

Harry smiled, “The notebook,”

“Oh yeah, the notebook.” She rambled, continuing to explain all the places she could have left it even though Harry knew exactly where it was. 

By the time they got to class, they were ten minutes late. They took the walk of shame to their places in the back, holding hands beneath the table as Harry took notes and Y/N rested her head against his arm, rubbing her cheek against his soft, navy blue sweater. 

He smiled, kissing the top of her head and basking in the warmth of his sunshine girl. 

#softgirlsundays #fic rec #harry styles fic rec #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #one direction #writing #fanfiction #fanfic rec #tutor!harry #harry styles fluff

[xxsunoosprincess]

Hi! How are you doing? I love your writing btw, you’re definitely one of my favourite writers 🙈

I don’t know if anyone has asked this yet, but enha legal line + aftercare?? What they’d do, how they’d act kind of thing? Maybe even how they’d like to be taken care of? It’s perfectly okay if you don’t want to do this 🤗

hi hi!! I’m a little sick rn but doing good because I’m finally done with school >:3 also u make me blush sweet anon… I’m glad my stuff makes you happy!! sorry it took a minute to get around to this but I’m indulging in some softer stuff while I sniffle away in bed :,) thanks for the request!!

Enhypen and Aftercare (OT6)

pairings: Enhypen legal line x reader

warnings: 18+, minors dni, mentions of sex but not pure smut, fem bodied!reader

Heeseung

His face contorts into an expression halfway between pain and pleasure as he slow lying inches his sensitive length out of you, a breathless “hahh” escaping him as he shivers, collapsing onto you. It pulls an unexpected grunt out of you, followed by a series of giggles as he borrows into your neck, huffs of hot air tickling your sensitive skin.

“What the fuck” he whines out. You feel his hands squeeze your hips “your pussy is crazy”. The seriousness in his voice has you caught between a belly laugh and a faux scandalized gasp, swatting his ass gently as you scold him for such crude words. “I’m serious! You. Your body. You’re just perfect…” small pecks between each word, sleepy yawns, and a dopey heeseung clinging to you like a koala. Has fallen into the routine of fucking you before bed, claims it’s “the only way I can sleep now. Need you so bad”, and it might just be true because you can already feel the gentle vibrations of his snores against your collarbone.

Jay

Don’t play rn Jay is literally the embodiment of doting aftercare. The routine is locked and mf loaded. After he bullies your cunt until it’s sore and you are sure you can’t walk, this pillow talk starts. This part is just as much for you as it is for him, because he doesn’t think he could walk right now either. Promises of a future together, a catch-up on how your days have been, chats about if you liked the newest thing he introduced to your romp in the sheets. Just hearing your sweet voice cut through the quiet of night is enough to reground him (plus, he really does care about what you have to say).

I think he’s a little lazy with clean up, keeps a pack of wet wipes at the bedside table to give you both a once over, makes a half-promise to shower with you in the morning, and then rolls over to spoon you, peppering light kisses down your neck as your naked bodies intertwine to watch an episode of your guys’ favorite tv show. To Jay, aftercare is just as intimate as the actual sex. Unintentionally romantic in every way.

Jake

He’s the one that needs the most extensive aftercare, and come on, doesn’t he deserve it? He will eat you out for hours until you are kicking and squealing and prying him away by his hair. He will fuck into you from behind like it’s his sole purpose on his earth. And when all is said and done, he can hardly talk, slipping between English and Korean as he mumbles out a mix of curses and “so good, princess, so good”.

We wants you to play with his hair, curling up into your chest and peppering light kisses across your skin. He won’t admit how his heart skips a beat when you coo out a soft “good boy” to him, instead, he playfully bites you in retaliation. He won’t say anything about it, though. He loves the extra soft treatment, it’s like a reward for pushing himself to his limits to make you feel good.

Sunghoon

He’s such an angel. He’s sweeping you up in his arms to carry you to the bathroom. It doesn’t matter how big you are, he insists on carrying you because you are his baby (“you know, I don’t lift all those weights for nothing” cue the cheesy flexing). Lets you soak in the shower for a bit while he changes the sheets and prepares pajamas for you. Big believer in actions speak louder than words.

“Was I too rough on you today?” he pouts, slipping into the shower after finishing his post-coital rounds and eyeing the redness that has stuck around on the meat of your ass. No amount of reassurance of you liking it will erase the worried expression, eyebrows drawn together and lips pressed into a thin line. The only thing that makes him stop, makes him burst out into laughter and splash water at you, is the promise you make to spank him next time around.

Sunoo

I’m sorry but he is definitely crying afterwards. Y’all know I’m not on the babygirl Sunoo agenda all the time, but this is something I’m absolutely positive about. He’s just so overwhelmed with emotion, so happy that you trust him to see you in such a vulnerable state, so happy to be with you, so in love with you, the tears are forming in his eyes the moment he watches you reach your finish underneath him. “My pretty girl” sniffle sniffle “you’re so- fuck- so gorgeous”. Doesn’t matter how long you have been together, there is about a 50% chance of tears every time you guys fuck.

He tends to get embarrassed about crying like that so please give him lots of reassurance :(. Gets a little shy and whiny at vocalized praise, but loves gentle back rubs and showers together. Let him wash and dry you, he likes to feel like he is taking care of you just as much as you take care of him <3.

Jungwon

I’m sorry he’s so silly and sweet after. Needs to make you laugh after an intense moment. Eases his mind to see you so happy after being so vulnerable (firm believer in the wonie softie agenda). Still naked as the day he was born as he playfully wrestles with you in the sheets. He’s right next to your ear, letting our exaggerated high-pitches moans and squeals of “wonnie harder!”. He giggles at your indignant protests, reassuring you that he loves how you can’t get enough of your “very hot and sexy boyfriend”.

He seems like the type that needs to be constantly moving, fetching you towels and water and hand feeding you snacks. “Anything for you, babycakes”. Cheesy ass grin while calling you corny pet names in a teasing voice, dodging the pillow you launch his way.

END.

a/n: reminder that requests are open. I have some to work through and might not do all requests I get, but I love hearing from y’all :3 also this isn’t proofread, just like every thing else 😭 xx - princess

#enhypen x reader #enhypen reactions #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x y/n #enha scenarios #enha reactions #enha x reader #enha smut #enha imagines #enha x y/n #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #xxsunoosprincess #requests for sunoo’s princess!! #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jake x reader

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 15

Danny was sitting on his bed, legs crossed with his blue bear set on his lap. He was stroking a thumb over it’s nose, gaze absently out the window.

Jason leaned against the door frame. “Danny?”

The blue eyes snapped to Jason. They were a different color from Bruce’s, just slightly. There was that damning green ring around the outside of the iris, just like Jason’s own, but the green bled less into the blue for Danny.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Danny said with a small smile and a duck of his head. He moved his hand from the bear’s nose to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess it’s just been a long day.”

“Makes sense, lot of busyness all day,” Jason agreed. It really had been. From meeting Steph with breakfast to games after when Tim joined them at lunch, new phone in hand, and then with Duke there briefly for dinner, fully suited up, the safe house had been full all day. Jason had worried about it being too much, but Danny seemed happy, if slightly quiet. But then again, Danny was almost always quiet. “Do you need me to stay? Nightwing will be here in about two hours to change over with B.B., but I’ll stay if you need me to.”

“No, you should go,” Danny insisted. “I’ll just be asleep, I figure I’m going to crash after today.”

Jason smiled a little. It was nice to have Danny sound more like a kid lately. “I bet. Call me if you need, O will make sure that the number on the phone patches into my comms.”

“What if you’re busy?”

“Then O will talk to you herself or pass you to another Bat. There’s always one of us around for you.”

Danny’s smile looked a little wobbly as he nodded, and Jason gave into ruffling the kid’s hair before he left to go make a much needed appearance at Crime Alley.

-

“You’re healing well,” Nigthwing said as he smoothed down the last bandage.

“Yeah,” Danny said softly, ruffling the towel one more time through his hair so that he didn’t have to look at Nightwing.

It was still a marvel to be touched gently like that.

They all showed such care with him and his wounds. It made everything all the more obvious to Danny. Nightwing and the others were interested to see if he was healing so that he could be well. His par— they had been interested for far different reasons.

He hadn’t seen it when he was a kid with scrapped knees from falling off his bike.

Now he couldn’t unsee it.

He was always an experiment to them, wasn’t he? He was never their kid. If he had been their kid they wouldn’t have been able to cut into— to take— to do… to do….

“Danny?”

Danny sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and tried to blink away the memories. “What?”

“There you are.” Nightwing’s smile was sad as he brushed back a lock of Danny’s hair. Hadn’t Nightwing just been wearing gloves?

Danny ran his fingers over his bear, grounding himself in the soft texture. His bear. He was on the couch wrapped in a blanket holding his bear.

He had just been in the bathroom.

Danny blinked slowly. “I, um…”

“It’s okay. You just went away for a bit. I moved you when you stopped answering me. It’s been about seven minutes. Nothing’s happened.”

“Oh.”

Hadn’t he been getting better? He hadn’t thought… Why did he have to think about them?

“Hey, Danny, it’s okay, you don’t have to cry,” Nightwing said, “or, you know, cry if you need to! That’s okay too. Just, we’re not going to let anyone hurt you here.”

Danny sniffled and turned his head to rub his face against the blanket. Nightwing shouldn’t promise that— he couldn’t promise that. They didn’t know what Danny was. They didn’t know who was after him. It was unfair to ask that of them— to make them feel like they had to promise him that.

“I’m okay,” Danny said with a watery smile.

He wasn’t.

“How about a movie?” Nightwing suggested and Danny was grateful for the out.

He tried not to cling as they settled into the couch to watch through the Jurassic Park movies.

“The newest one is stupid in all the right ways,” Nightwing said cheerfully. He must have known that Danny wanted to cling, because he tucked Danny close after everything was set up.

Danny watched the movie without seeing it.

They thought they had to take care of him.

They couldn’t promise that. They didn’t even have the whole story. Sure, Hood had died too, but he was so different than Danny in that. Hood had come back. Hood was alive. Danny didn’t count as alive anymore, not even in this form.

Did Danny ever really count as alive?

He was just an experiment.

A test.

He was never supposed to have ever been.

Danny let his eyes close. What movie were they on now? Did it matter?

Did any of it matter?

He wasn’t supposed to have ever been.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever been, but there he was. There he was, dead and alive. A child and a monster. And he knew, worst of all, because of what he was they would never let him go. Danny knew that, it’s why he had run to Gotham. He thought that maybe if he could just get the money to leave the country somehow… Bruce Wayne had to be able to do that. Even if— even though there’s no way that Wayne would care about Danny, he had hoped maybe he could get the help. A one off to be out of Bruce Wayne’s life forever and not a media scandal. He just needed to…

The gentle fingers carding through his hair started to chase away Danny’s thoughts.

But the Bats had found him.

The Bats had found him and the Bats cared.

Danny wanted that. Danny wanted that so desperately that it hurt him. He’d been just taking advantage of it too, hadn’t he? Because he wanted it he’d been taking it without them knowing what he was. And now they were acting like they wanted him to stay.

But they didn’t know.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat, feeling like it was choking him.

He had run to Gotham. He had run to Gotham but that wouldn’t stop them. They would find him here. They would find him and because of him they would find Hood. They would find Hood and take him too. And then they would find Robin. They would find all these wonderful, kind people that had been touched by death in all these ways and they would take them. They would take them and cut them apart and—

Danny bit his lip so that he couldn’t make a sound.

They would find him if he made a sound.

“It’s okay Danny, just rest.”

Danny’s eyes snapped open. The afternoon light from the window in his room was playing across his face. His heart thudded in his chest. He was afraid.

But he was afraid with a sense of certainty that he hadn’t had before.

-

“Go get Danny for lunch,” Jason said as he flipped the sandwich on the pan with the same intense focus that he did everything these days.

Dick had to fight back a smile. Getting to be around his little wing so much over the past weeks had been great. Sure, Jason was still mulish and snapped easily, but Dick had also gotten to see so much more of who Jason was behind that defense. Dick loved getting to see that. Giving into the urge to smile, Dick gave a little salute and swung himself off the counter.

Maybe if they were lucky all this could continue after they got Danny settled. It had to, right? Jason seemed pretty attached to Danny, not that Dick could talk, so Jason was sure to come over to see their new brother. Dick would still have time with Jason.

Dick gave a soft knock on Danny’s door before opening it a crack. If Danny was still asleep, Dick didn’t want to startle him.

Except Danny wasn’t still asleep.

Danny wasn’t even in the room.

The bed was fixed and Danny’s tablet and phone sat neatly in the middle.

“He just in the bathroom,” Dick tried to assure himself even as his instincts screamed that was wrong. Silently, silently purely out of habit, Dick approached the bed.

The tablet’s screen was on.

Dick picked it up with hands that only stayed steady from years of training.

No.

No, no, no—

“Jason!”

-

Thank you. Thank you for saving me and caring for me and wanting me. Thank you. You all mean so much to me and that’s why I have to go. I have to go before they find me and then find you all too. I can’t let them find you. I’ll never forget you. Don’t look for me. -Danny

--- AN: *puts on my halo* I'm innocent?

This prob could use a few more editing passes but I am still sick and tired so taaaada (no concrit needed, it will get edited before ao3). Hopefully you all still enjoyed(?) it! Stay delightful, darlings.

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons

[usedpidemo]

Too many nights ((G)I-dle Yuqi)

The way you see it, even if the signs were right in front of you all along—written in bright, colorful signposts with the largest text imaginable—you’d still be hurling yourself off that cliff. 

Yuqi knows this too—you think she does.

At the very least, she looks convincing enough that she feigns innocence on the matter, and she is. It's mainly a you problem. She doesn’t know you much other than being the sweet, quiet guy who was her roommate in college and nothing else.

And that’s probably the reason why she’s standing in front of your newly minted apartment on a random Monday.

—————

You’re waiting for her to pick her bags off the floor and leave. You told her to leave three times. Threaten to call security on her. She doesn’t budge. Instead, she stares. Stubborn, obstinate, unyielding.

“Please, give me one opportunity. Please let me explain myself.” Yuqi finally breaks her silence, eyes wide, glinting with tears, pleading.

“Shoot.”

She looks down, unable to see you eye to eye, her hands running through the pockets of her skirt. “You’re right. I’ve taken your kindness for granted, and I’m sorry. I really am.” 

Pausing, you’ve never heard her sound this quiet, this personal. “I never truly appreciated you till I was home with my parents. I should have focused more on studying than going out and having fun. Now look. They’re pissed that I’m being a bum at home instead of working, so they kicked me out.”

She proves your theory to be true. She has no reason to be here unless you bail her out of trouble again.

“But I can’t find one job that I like. Working a 9-5 or any regular cashier job seems so boring, you know what I mean? Doesn’t feel like my type of thing to do,” she continues, lightly kicking the suitcases with her feet. “My friends are all busy, so I had no one to lean on. Then I remembered you! So here I am.”

At least it was nice seeing Yuqi act mature for at least three minutes before reverting to her usual spry, childlike personality. 

“Okay? Well that’s on you for being lazy, and I can’t help with that. Sorry to hear you got kicked out, but I have nothing to offer you. It was great seeing you, though. Good luck with that job.” 

You try closing the door, but she stops it with her foot. Peeking through the narrow space, you find Yuqi persistent, unrelenting. “Wait. Hear me out for a second, I said I didn’t wanna be your roommate.”

“No, Yuqi. Just go—”

“I really need you right now. I’ve already applied to like five different companies on public wifi, it’s so fucking slow and I doubt they even got my email. I just need a place to stay for like a month. Trust me, I’ll get a job and when I get paid, I’ll spend it on finding my own apartment! Just give me this one time.”

You swear you’ve never heard Yuqi this desperate, this loud. Your neighbors are probably ringing up security right now, maybe the owner too.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down for a minute, will you? Our neighbors are listening.” You open the door lightly and Yuqi’s eyes light up. You didn’t even say yes, but it might as well be a confirmation to her.

“You promise? You’re actually working on a job application?” you ask, doubtful about her claim.

“Of course.” Yuqi shows her phone, presents pdf files of multiple application letters to the very places she doesn’t want to work. Some fastfood chains, at convenience stores, and mall outlets. “None of them have replied back, so—I’m still trying to apply to more places, but I’m almost out of data on my plan and I don’t wanna spend another night inside my car. Just give me this one thing? Okay?”

Seeing the evidence firsthand, you can’t help but be impressed. If you had any spine, you’d contemplate the proposal more, give it some time to mellow out, maybe let her elaborate some terms of agreement. But in a moment of weakness, you yield right away. What’s one month of Yuqi gonna do to you?

“All right, fine. I’ll let you stay—”

“I owe you one, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Yuqi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when she brings her suitcases into your apartment at record speed. She gives you a peck on the cheek in appreciation twice, one for each pair of suitcases she shuffles in.

You can only sigh in response before closing the door.

—————

Before Yuqi gets comfortable in her new place, you sit her down on the living room couch to discuss house rules. This isn’t like college, where you share a dorm together, split the bill and have personal spaces. While you don’t own the apartment, you make one thing very clear: she’s bound to you and whatever rules you impose on her.

“Let’s make one thing and one thing clear: you break any of my rules, you’re outta here. I don’t care if you explain yourself, you’re gone. Understood?”

“Right.” Yuqi’s trembling with excitement and impatience, nodding erratically, kicking her legs up, goading you into rushing through everything so she can lay on an actual bed. 

You take a moment to analyze her suitcases in the middle of the room. Facing her, you ask cautiously, “Tell me you didn’t bring your—”

“Yep!” She responds almost immediately, thrilled to answer your question, as if it were muscle memory. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

And there goes your supposed rule one. Of course she brought her entire dorm room decor along. Knowing her, they’re likely encompassing two of her suitcases.

“Yeah, no. My landlord is quite strict about decor, so you can’t put them up,” you tell her bluntly; there’s no getting around his rule, even if your roles were swapped.

She frowns, visibly devastated, probably more hurt than being kicked out by her family. It’s the end of the world, but she won’t give in. If there’s even a slight possibility she can have her way, she will force herself through. “Please? Even just my room—”

“Not a chance. It’s just a general rule here, sorry.” You make sure to shut her down immediately. “I didn’t make that rule, anyway. Blame the owner.”

Yuqi acquiesces. She groans with displeasure, crossing her arms, acting bratty. No act can convince you to change your mind.

“Right. Now actual ground rules. This isn’t a dorm so you can’t just freeload as much as you want. Now I understand you're still working on that job application, so all I’m asking is just for you not to be completely messy, got it? So don’t eat my leftovers without asking, don’t go out to clubs and ask me to drive you home when you’re drunk, none of that. If you’re drunk, sleep outside the room. I don’t want to clean up vomit on the carpets.”

Surprisingly, Yuqi agrees without complaint. You’re unsure whether she’s nodding so she can settle in, or if she actually understood every single word.

“I seriously hope you’re working on that job—”

“Don’t worry! Just give me the wifi password and I’ll be set.” Yuqi can’t help but interrupt you every single time, and to her credit, it’s effective. She does seem dead set on taking this opportunity to redeem herself, and it’s a convincing act. As insufferable as she can be at times, you want to see her succeed. You want to see her win.

You jot down the wifi password on an extremely thin sheet of paper and place it on the table before her. Before walking away, you ask her, “You need me to help with your belongings? I’ll get the guest room ready while you make yourself comfort—”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Yuqi’s typing on her phone, not even shooting you a look in your direction. “I’ll get it sorted out, don’t worry! Just pretend I’m not here.”

To her credit, she does get her belongings sorted out. By evening, she moves into a cleared out storage room that’s now her designated bedroom. Words are hardly exchanged other than simple pleasantries and greetings. You ask her if she had dinner, she says yes. She doesn’t take anything from the fridge other than some water. There’s a knock on the door; she answers and comes back with a package of chinese food. She offers to share some, but you modestly decline.

You never ate together when you shared a dorm in college. She would eat her inside her bedroom or after you already cleaned up. At times, she’d come back to the dorm late and you wouldn’t see her till the following day. You share the same space but you have vastly different lives. The feeling is familiar, but the setting is new: having dinner under the low light, uncertain about your futures. 

This feels like your first day together all over again.

—————

The first night with Yuqi is a quiet affair. There’s hardly any commotion. An unusual scene. She finishes her food ahead of you then retreats into her bedroom without uttering a single word. 

When you wake up the next morning, Yuqi is already at the dining table. Browsing her laptop, coffee in hand, seemingly focused on that next job application. She doesn’t even greet you or acknowledge your existence; she’s in her own world, but in a good way. 

“Morning,” you quietly say, trying to grab her attention, but it falls on deaf ears. 

“You off to work?” she asks, preceded by a mouse click while you pour onto your mug. Her attention remains glued to the screen, paying you no heed.

“Kind of?” You take a seat opposite Yuqi’s side on the table. “I work here. Or should I say: this is my workplace.” 

“Wow. I wish I could work from home. Would be nice,” she replies between mouse clicks and keyboard taps.

You take a light sip of your coffee. “What course did you take again?” 

“Umm—” Yuqi slumps back in her chair, “I think it was medicine? I wanted to become a guitarist and have my own band, but my parents wanted me to become a doctor. And I don’t wanna ruin my handwriting, so—” 

“Don’t you have a band with your friends? The one with—”

“Yeah that dream died two years ago.” Yuqi’s eyes squint, brows furrowing, running through every word slightly faster than normal. “And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Not even a little—”

“No.” She faces you with a surprisingly cold glare, a sight you’ve never seen before. “They can just fuck off—those goddamn bitches.” 

You find yourself unable to move the conversation forward after her abrupt turn. It’s probably for the best; you hardly paid any attention to Yuqi’s life to be entitled to a substantial explanation. 

The rest of the hour goes by in deafening, awkward silence. Here’s Yuqi, this ball of energy whose life primarily revolves around partying and getting rowdy, calmly clicking on the touchpad and typing a few words every now and then in search of a way to fund her addiction. You can tell from her sullen expression just how deprived she is of that high—how incomplete she feels without the rush of adrenaline, ecstasy, and alcohol flowing through her veins. It’s impressive how it takes someone to hit rock bottom to turn their life around, how all this could have been avoided with a few decisions.

Still, it’s never too late for someone like her, and as long as she holds up her end of the deal, i.e. leave you for good after this, you’ll actively root for her success.

—————

“Fucking hell, dude,” sighs Yuqi, slamming the panel of her laptop hard, her fist narrowing missing the edge of the table. While you’ve made yourself comfortable at your usual workplace, a spacious office desk on the other side of the living room, you’re preoccupied scanning through numerous documents and emails your boss sent you. A look at the bottom right of the screen tells you it’s half past lunch. Then your stomach grumbles, as if the clock wasn’t enough of a reminder.

“Gonna make lunch,” you say to a vexed Yuqi, who’s stretching her legs against the table and her arms to the ceiling, body likely aching from her hunched position. “You good?”

“Yep.” Her tone perfectly toes the line between sincerity and sarcasm. “Got three rejections—no, four, actually. The last one was sent minutes ago.”

You’re not sure how to respond.

“Oof.” 

You couldn’t relate to her even if you tried. Of the two applications you sent, your current job is the one that gave you the freedom and flexibility to work from home, even if it paid less than the other. That was six months ago; finding job opportunities has become way harder, or so you’ve heard from your other unemployed peers from college.

“Finding a job sucks,” says Yuqi, stating the obvious. She finally gets up from her chair, brings her laptop back into her bedroom to charge before reemerging with a hairpin wrapped around her knuckles, tying it around her loose red hair. “So, what’s for lunch?”

“Meatloaf and eggs,” you reply, firing up the stove as you grab pans from beneath the sink. “Not sure if you’ll like it, though.”

She lifts her eyebrows, intrigued, but mostly unbothered. She’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t fast food or from the convenience store, and she doesn’t have the gall to complain, anyway, as your roommate. 

—————

“So, how’s the job hunting going?” you ask her right as the sun descends over your apartment windows. You have your schedule down to a science, finishing all intended projects and goals when neighboring buildings’ lights open. Weekdays can’t be anymore mundane and monotonous, but you get the job done, you’re paid handsomely, and you have time for your other hobbies.

Meanwhile, Yuqi looks like she doesn’t want to stare at a computer screen for a week, maybe a month. She looks worse off than she did in the morning. It’s evident in her clothes, her hair, her face: frazzled and messy. A perfect representation of her state.

“What do you think?” she replies, never sounding so heated, so frustrated. A look at her screen shows a new rejection letter, piled between several others, already read. Each one with different reasons, different ways to hurt, but with the same intent: we appreciate your interest, but we have chosen a different candidate from a very competitive pool—we don’t think you fulfill our qualifications—we’re looking for someone with more experience—we wish you the best in your future endeavors. You’ve noticed she tends to click back and forth between each letter, as if to torture herself further.

“I think you should put that laptop away. Try again tomorrow,” you tell her, closing the panel while she’s scrolling, stealing her attention. She readjusts her glasses, blinking rapidly, annoyed at your little intervention. “I’m going for a walk. You should join me.”

“And what if I don’t?” she asks, threatening to pull her laptop away from your fingers. 

“Good luck going out when I have the room key then.”

“I don’t have my running shoes,” she replies, and she’s telling the truth; she only brought one pair of slippers with her, the rest being colorful sets of boots and expensive high heels.

“Then grab some from my closet and wash up. You’ll look stupid if you go out in those silly boots.”

—————

At first, you believe she had declined the offer; you had already left the building when Yuqi caught up to you moments later, huffing and puffing from exhaustion. Hey, maybe she could have been a great track and field athlete if she put her mind to it.

You can’t help but make a little comment. “Thought you weren’t going to go out.”

That was for all the times she’d make similar remarks to you back in college. They never really bothered you; you were never a man of high morals and upstanding, but at least you had your priorities sorted out, unlike Yuqi. 

Yuqi playfully counters your rib, shooting you a disparaging stare. “Dude. I’m doing you a favor by doing this.”

“Elaborate.” You laugh.

“You never went out whenever I asked you. You always said no to parties.”

“And for good reason. Look at us now.” 

If you wanted to, you’d be harsher. You have years of dirty laundry and grievances to air out, but this is as concise and as restrained as you can express them without getting accused of attempted murder. Besides, you can’t keep a straight face the longer you look at her. She clearly stands out in a rather dreary and dull crowd, and it isn’t the red hair as bright as the sun, it's her look—or lack thereof. Your oversized hoodie, your running shoes mixed with her pajamas, the lack of bra—it’s obvious she only did the bare minimum to look decent in a public setting, and yet she fits in all of them like a glove.

“Where are we going, anyway? Can it be a bar? I hope it’s a bar.” 

The first thing she wants to look for once outside is a place to drink. Of course. It’s hardly a surprise to you or anyone at this point.

“Where’s your car anyway?” you question back. 

“I dunno. Could be in the carpark, could have been impounded. I don’t remember, and I don’t really care. It smells like dogshit, anyway, cause I’ve been living in it for the past three weeks.” 

Yuqi talks with a fine blend of fast and sardonic, evidently scarred from all her ordeals with that car. She’s never experienced living outside her glass castle until now, and it shows. She’s dragging her feet with every step following you close behind, trying to soak in the scenery around her. Street lights, joggers, buskers, friends, and partners of every sort, people that you actually know and recognize. It’s all foreign in her eyes. All she knows are strobe lights, loud music, drinks, and rowdy crowds. 

“So, like, do you just go on a walk every single day or you only do this because I’m your roommate?” she wonders, her gaze lingering at a passing woman jogger that catches her eye. Jumping to conclusions, she adds, “Are you telling me to touch grass? As if I hadn’t been doing that for weeks?”

You turn around and notice her distant stare, still fixated on that woman, ruminating the prospect of leaving you for her instead. “I don’t think getting blacked out drunk and vomiting in your car counts as touching grass.”

“How do you even know that?” Yuqi faces you, provoked by your comment, pouting. “You hardly attend parties, even when I invited you. You always turned them down.”

“Word gets around fast. I thought you already knew that.” 

If she could, she’d grab you by the throat and strangle you to death or rip you in half. It stings. She questions whether your blunt, matter-of-fact delivery makes the statement ten times more scathing. Then she wonders if she made a mistake, dressing up and going after you, when you’ll just be making her regret her life decisions like her parents did. You hardly cared back then, so why now?

“Can we just go to a bar? You’re being annoying.” Yuqi stares into the distance, intentionally averting her gaze away from you.

“If you have the money, then sure, let’s go for it.” You know she has no leverage or power; she can only afford fast food and a month’s worth of groceries and daily necessities. It pains her to make a willing decision to pass on alcohol and avoid bars and parties. She’s down horrendously, but she won’t directly confess her own fatal flaw. 

It takes everything within her not to slap you square in the face. 

And you can play this game all night long until she folds. You can stand there, argue, and debate with Yuqi till she runs out of excuses and complaints. Four years of pent up material to unload onto her, make a scene in public and turn her into an example about not wasting one’s life away. You can go further, you promise. 

Instead, you both settle down in a cafe on the other side of the park as a compromise.

The place is more suited to Yuqi’s style: lively crowd, comfortable ambience, all the caffeine and sugar as a proxy to her raging alcohol addiction. Most importantly, she won’t pay for shit. You don’t even end up drinking your own order; she does it on your behalf. You settle for a tiny cup of tap water instead. In a way, she’s acting like a needy dog, desperate for attention without concern for anything else that doesn’t involve her.

“Fucking hell, I never knew I needed this,” she echoes, sipping up the last quarter of your coffee, glancing at the menu over the counter, itching for another. She’s keen on paying from her pocket this time; she recognizes you won’t give her another freebie. “This shit tastes so good.”

You can only shake your head, not even remotely trying to hide your frustration toward her. Her obliviousness is kind of cute in a way, making her look a bit sympathetic. 

“Maybe I should just work here,” she says, her eyes moving in every direction, her attention taken by something shiny every five seconds. Plenty of action happens at night: groups entering and exiting, the pervasive scent of fresh coffee brewing in real time, and plenty of girls to ogle at. In particular, there’s a waitress with a cherry tattoo on her neck that’s captured her interest. She can’t help but point her out to you, grinning widely at her. “See that waitress? She’s kinda cute.”

“Uh-huh.” You’re not really paying attention; you’re there mainly for the free wifi and a snack, not to flirt. Luckily for you both, the waitress is preoccupied with meeting high customer demands to notice. “Good idea, maybe you should apply here.”

The longer you stay inside the cafe premises, the more Yuqi becomes less inclined to leave. You end up having dinner, a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the snack menu. On her end, four cups of coffee strewn on the table, all drank by her. If this was some ploy to make you pay for free drinks, it worked to a tee. Anything to avoid engaging you in a serious conversation.

The opportunity never presents itself. Soon, the cafe becomes dimmer and muted. Staff are closing off sections, clearing trays, and cleaning up empty tables. Since you entered the cafe, she has not made a move on the waitress at all, even when you’ve tried pushing her over the cliff numerous times. Her shift is close to done, ready to check out for the day. One more opening. Still, Yuqi watches her intently, but can’t find the strength to stand, let alone pull the trigger.

“Well? I thought you were gonna ask her out or something.” You take a look around and come to a grim realization: that you’re the only two customers left.

“I—I don’t think I wanna do it now.” Yuqi turns around, playfully grinning, but rushing through her words. “Maybe when I get the job here. Maybe.”

You can only react in quiet disbelief to how this was all just a huge waste of time—and money.

“Fucking—” you sputter before masking the rest of your response, groaning as you rise from your seat, leaving.

After two days, your main observation is that Yuqi hasn’t changed much. If at all.

—————

The rest of the week follows a similar structure. It’s comforting; it’s the kind of monotony you’ve acquainted yourself in ever since having your own apartment. Yuqi’s always up before you, an hour in advance, she’ll tell you. At her usual spot around the dining table, on her laptop, coffee in hand. You stop asking for updates after the third day; you’re certain she’ll figure things out. Your mindfulness and curiosity get the better of you, peeking through the screen on occasion, only to find the same thing. One rejection after another, mixed in with a new application letter in between. From the outside looking in, it’s as if some divine force doesn’t want her to get that job.

In the evenings, you go for your usual walks. Yuqi joins you out of the apartment building, but instead of following, she separates and heads the other way. She’s wearing her own earphones and your hoodie, something she’ll end up keeping. The few times you run across each other, she's holding some drink in her hand, usually the coffee from the cafe you spent time with her in, her hoodie pooling with sweat all over. No pleasantries, you mind your own business till you return home.

It isn’t until two weeks after she’s moved in that you extend an invitation: a visit to a newly opened lounge on the other side of town. You preface the invite saying you only knew about the place because it had opened a month ago, and had mostly forgotten about it until you remembered her. She’s doing well for herself, so you might as well reward her for her efforts, even if it hasn’t gone anywhere. And it isn’t Yuqi without asking for some kind of favor; in this case, taking a ride in your car because hers has been impounded by the police. You’re not even surprised that she’s too lazy to reclaim it herself.

Your friend says the lounge is newly opened, but once inside, you’re uncertain about her claim. Whether it's by design or her being a complete liar, grimy, poorly lit, in the vein of all those underground clubs you had seen in action movies where a shootout or police raid occurs. Simply put, there isn’t anywhere pretty to look at, and you feel icky just by being here.

To Yuqi, it’s a fantasyland: it’s where she’s meant to be all along. She’s so overjoyed to be there. 

“It’s you!” calls a familiar voice; you turn and find a friendly face over the counter waving to you. You quietly leave Yuqi to herself and approach the bartender, who just so happens to be the owner. “I never thought you’d come and visit! It’s great to see you.”

“Only doing this for a friend, Minnie,” you silently tell her, pointing your finger at your invited guest, the sole reason you’d ever be here. She recognizes her immediately and understands.

“Yuqi, huh?” She looks intrigued, her gaze lingering at the girl. A subtle grin is forming on her face. “Never thought the two of you would be an item like that, considering she’s a party animal and you’re—”

“No—no—don’t get it twisted,” you interrupt, frantically trying to clear up any presumption. There’s no chance in hell you will ever find yourself attached to Yuqi romantically, not even a little. “It’s—a long story.”

“Do tell.” Minnie smirks, teasing, alluring. She looks the part of a bar owner, all right; dark eyelashes and shadowy lipstick matching her pitch black hair. Not to mention her slim dress perfectly hugging her tight frame, showing enough cleavage to draw attention. As a friendly gesture, she gives you a wine glass and pours a drink on it. “We’ve got all the time in the world and all the drinks you need. All in house since you’re a friend.”

So you oblige yourself to a tiny sip. The place is surprisingly quiet and empty, even though it’s the weekend, with lo-fi music playing through the speakers as the only form of background noise. Minnie doesn’t have much on her plate. She can lean on the desk and listen to you all night long.

“So, two weeks ago, Yuqi moved into my place trying to look for a job,” you tell Minnie before taking another sip. Both of you take quick glances at Yuqi, seemingly having the time of her life, scaring off the sole patron by the billiards table. “And I was wondering if you can get her a job here. She’s been rejected from every company she applied for. I know she doesn’t want to work a nine-to-five, and I suddenly remembered this place.”

Minnie raises a curious eyebrow, brushing small strands of hair covering her ear. “I see.” Looking past you, she notices Yuqi, now at the karaoke, amused by her voice and energy. You follow along and watch too, wincing at her talent, caught completely by surprise. You can feel the passion and emotion from her rather honeyed, deep singing voice, as well as her natural charisma while performing. 

“Damn. She sounds really good. Borderline natural at it.” Minnie’s in awe of Yuqi’s abilities, the sort of reaction that pushes buttons, steals the show. “Wasn’t she in a band? I know she played guitar.”

“She said it doesn’t exist anymore, won’t tell me what happened.” 

Even in the midst of conversation, Yuqi’s voice manages to snatch away your focus. She’s an extremely powerful singer—a natural, as Minnie said. Her voice is overpowering the background music with little difficulty. There’s little need to watch when her vocals can easily capture your attention all the same. 

Facing you again, Minnie replies, clasping her hands together, “How about she perform by herself?” she suggests. 

You meet her eye to eye at the drop of the notion, curious.

“What do you mean?” You take another sip.

“We have an open mic night next weekend, and we could use talent to liven up the place. She sounds perfect for that kind of gig. Who knows? Maybe she can be a resident singer if the cards are right.” Minnie smiles through every word, recognizing Yuqi’s talent and the untapped potential she has. All she needs is a platform to showcase her skill properly. And taking another glance at her, you see that too. She has the passion and the vocals to croon a live audience.

“I’ll tell her,” you say, turning to Minnie again. Yuqi has finished performing and is on her way over to the bar. Your conversation breaks off as the two women greet each other with an exchange of kisses on the cheek. 

“Great place you got here girl,” Yuqi tells Minnie, beaming from ear to ear. “I’ll be popping by often if you don’t mind.”

“Thanks. I could use some company on the weekdays, if I’m being honest.” Minnie hands Yuqi her own wine-filled glass, as well as a complimentary bottle. She makes sure not to “Take it, it’s on the house.”

“God, this is why I love you so fucking much.” Yuqi drinks up the whole glass in one swig, and immediately pours some from the complimentary bottle. Minnie can’t help but shake her head with a little smile, knowing this is still the same Yuqi she’s acquainted with since college. A rose-tinted view of days gone by. 

The two women spend the rest of the time catching up. With how much they talk, it would be a safe assumption to think that these are two long lost friends who haven’t spoken in years. Then the conversation goes on and on, revealing more details than you should probably know: exchanged  private messages as recent as last night, Yuqi’s intentions to visit the lounge sooner before present circumstances got in the way, and how she ended up in your apartment. As a listener and side character in her story, it’s a part you quite frankly never wanted, let alone be involved in under any capacity. You make sure to add your point of view in the narrative and clear every question. Whenever you chime in, they laugh heartily. It’s a mess, and they’re unapologetically quirky, never failing to make fun of you at times.

Despite everything, the topic is never brought up: the upcoming open mic night, her performance, her natural talent. You were planning to shoehorn the idea, but one too many drinks later, the conversation and opportunity eventually slips away. Again. 

Yuqi can hardly stand on her own two feet when she finally decides it's time to leave. It’s two in the morning when you guide her back to your car, with her drunk out of her mind and slipping into unconsciousness. Minnie assists you, making it even more embarrassing. Even when she’s so inebriated that she can barely move a muscle, she says she wants another round, slipping back into her old ways.

You escort Yuqi back to your apartment, setting her down on her bed and promising yourself that you’ll tell her about Minnie’s offer when she’s sober in the morning. 

Except it’s the one fucking day in the month where your job calls you into an actual office for a meeting. Despite that, Yuqi is not at her usual spot in the living room the next morning (unsurprisingly), so you leave food on the table for when she eventually wakes up.

—————

Returning late in the afternoon, you find a note from Yuqi on the outside door of your apartment, stamped by strawberry lipstick, simply reading:

> Not gonna be around till tomorrow. Have something urgent to attend to - XOXO, song yuqi

Sure enough, one brief tour of the apartment and Yuqi is nowhere to be seen. Her room remains untouched: the same, colorful space it’s always been, with most of her clothes and belongings still strewn everywhere on the floor. You don’t even mind the stickers and posters plastered all over the walls; she was gonna break that rule regardless. Typical, but expected. At least you know she hasn’t completely left yet.

Deep down, it’s the first time in a while that your apartment feels a lot smaller—and lonelier. It’s not that you have any sentimental attachment to Yuqi—not in the slightest—but her presence clearly livens up the place. The difference without her around is night and day. Even when your interactions are limited to a minimum, the brief moments you interact make living by yourself a bit more tolerable. 

So you preoccupy your mind with your usual schedule: a walk in the park, then dinner by yourself. But these intrusive thoughts grow worse and worse. You’re not in your pajamas at the usual hour, her absence is keeping you up at night, and waiting for her to walk through that door is about as brutal as federal punishment.

You end up driving to Minnie’s bar, inquiring about Yuqi’s whereabouts. She says she hasn’t been around, and she hasn’t exchanged messages with her since last night. Then she asks about open mic night; you tell her about the inconvenience, about the note on your door, which is why you’re there. Good effort, but she ultimately gives you nothing.

“You should stay here a while, who knows? I can message Yuqi you’ve been looking for her,” says Minnie, her smile as welcoming as it’s ever been. “Why not have a drink in the meantime?”

“Hmm.” You entertain the thought, but she promised to return tomorrow, and perhaps you’re overthinking it; you just have to let it play out. “No thanks.” As a distraction you’re watching another girl at the karaoke machine. She has distinctively pink hair, has similar energy and passion for singing, except her voice is much higher, more nasally. All she does is remind you of Yuqi, but she’s nowhere close—in appearance and in ability. “She promised to be back tomorrow. Maybe I should take her word for it and go home.”

A pour of wine on the glass is followed by her siren-like whisper. With her hand caressing your shoulder, she mutters, “So—you like her. You like Song Yuqi.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. Facing Minnie, you reply, “What? No way. I don’t like Yuqi at all. I’m just concerned she might have disappeared, that’s all.”

“Cap.” Minnie smirks, murmurs to your other ear. “You like her. Actually, you love her. You just won’t admit it.”

“And what makes you say that?” 

“The fact you look so distressed wondering where she is. I mean—just look at you.” Her voice is slow, delicate, each word delivered with profound emphasis. She flickers a lighter, then directs the cigarette in her mouth for a puff. “Would someone who doesn’t like her worry like this?”

“I mean—I’m just trying to help her get back on her feet,” you tell her, and Minnie can only chuckle in response. Puff more smoke. In her eyes, you’re not doing yourself any favors. Your words have no weight to them. It’s the same old same old most women like her hear dozens of times. I’m not into her, says the guy who’s showing an alarming level of concern towards said girl. Something she’s all too familiar with. “You know? Just looking out for a friend, that kinda thing.”

Minnie wishes she can hold up a mirror against you now to prove her point. In a place meant for everyone to relax and ease themselves, you look tumid, on the verge of a historical crash out. She smirks into her next smoke, shaking her head, scrolling through her phone. “Sure. I believe you,” she remarks, and there’s no effort made to hide the sarcasm in any capacity.

That piece of cigar looks quite appealing right now. She sells smoking like she sells the off shoulder dress draping her defined figure: exceptionally well, like she’s meant for it.

Later in the night—you’re unsure whether it’s still today or tomorrow—Minnie suddenly approaches you with a shift in enthusiasm, as seen through her grin: “You should probably head home. Unless you want to stay the night waiting for someone who won’t be here in the morning.”

“She’s back already?” You manage to decipher the hint right away.

She nods, can’t help herself from beaming continuously. No effort to lie or maintain the mystery further. “I guess you’re not as stupid as I thought you’d be.”

Running up the stairs in a hurry, you respond to her little jab with a shout, “And you owe me one for that. Actually—no, I owe you one!” 

Unknowingly, Yuqi’s little mannerisms are starting to reflect in you, too.

Sure enough, you’re home within a matter of minutes. Empty streets, dead nightlife on a weekday, the loudest thing heard for miles is the roar of your car’s engine and the elevator headed up to your apartment floor. Any other time you’d burst through that door like an officer with an arrest warrant, but it’s almost three in the morning, and the last thing you want to be is apprehended yourself after a noise complaint. 

The place remains as unchanged as you had left it: completely dark, save for one light over the kitchen. It’s quiet, eerily silent—until you hear airy, soft noises in the distance. Room by room, you carefully inspect where the sound is coming from, only to find nothing at all. 

There’s only one place left to check, and it happens to be the Yuqi’s bedroom. A room you remember being empty. As you approach the sole unopened door, you notice the faint sound growing in pitch. Hushed words from a familiar tone.

“Fuck—oh fuck—”

You press an ear against the door frame. She sounds clearer.  Way more explicit. Vivid.

“So—so—good—fuck yes—”

There’s a subtle creaking sound that accompanies her singsong tone almost perfectly. Nothing is left open for interpretation; Yuqi is feeling herself. Feeling a satisfaction that only comes from something slick, something rough, something good. 

As much as you want to respect her space, her moment in the dark, you can’t help yourself. She sounds so good, so gratifying to the ears, it’s making you a little hot and flustered, much to your own guilt and shame. You don’t care about the consequences; you’ll allow yourself one little look then pretend it never happened. At best, she’s too preoccupied with her own bliss to notice, and at worst, it’ll be one awkward conversation starter in the morning.

“Oh, oh God—you feel really good baby—just like that—”

It’s as if she’s reading your mind, understanding your intentions. The way she moans your name like an invitation—something you never thought you would hear or even consider—how it’s naturally delivered from her sweet, intoxicating voice. You’re doing yourself a disservice by listening through the door.

There’s no better opportunity than now.

With your heart racing against your chest, every nerve in your muscles tense up as it desperately opens the door, slowly and as quietly as humanly possible. Miraculously, you go completely unnoticed. Even as light from the living room slowly penetrates through Yuqi’s bedroom, it fails to cover what really matters: the bed and Yuqi herself. 

Nevertheless, the sight that welcomes you is one to behold, one worth looking at with complete awe.

Yuqi’s body is splayed out on the bed. Her legs are spread wide, a couple of her fingers aggressively rubbing against her exposed clit, and there’s a glossy sheen coating the sheets before her soaking wet core. Her clothes are, unsurprisingly, scattered all over the floor, along with a pair of consumed alcohol bottles. She’s completely bare for your eyes to see. Nothing is left to your imagination. More importantly, she looks so fucking hot. Your heart is racing like never before, and the scene has your pants in a twist.

Her other hand runs up and down her lithe frame, then squeezes her own breast. She lets out this sharp mewl, grinding her hips against air. Her jaw slacks wide. Her eyes shut tight. Her back arches. Waves of self-induced pleasure send shockwaves through every fiber of her being, her moans growing more and more erratic.

“Fucking give it to me—I love this cock so fucking much—”

It’s about as pornographic and explicit as it gets. It riles you up in an uncomfortable way; you end up unzipping your pants to free your growing erection, but nothing happens beyond that. It feels wrong. It is wrong, but you can’t muster up the strength to look away, let alone walk away. You want to see how it ends. How she cums.

She wraps a hand around her own throat, while her knees are planted upright with her feet firmly gripped on the sheets. There's a noticeable tone change in her whines, as if simulating the act. Yet, the words flow from her lips seamlessly. “I’m so close—so, so close—”

The cackle she makes after is mortifying. Here’s this girl, who you had zero attraction prior to tonight, shamelessly declaring how she’s going to cum, how good your cock feels inside her—without either of the two even happening to begin with. The fact she likes you is the least shocking revelation in itself. A reminder: you only had three meaningful conversations with her since she moved in—two if you consider how blackout drunk she was the night before, and even if you go all the way back to your college days, you can count them with your fingers alone.

“Fucking—cumming—oh my God—”

Yuqi strains her knees and loosens her grip on the sheets as she lets the pleasure wash over. Clear liquid gushes past her throbbing, relentless fingers and spills onto the linen. A guttural, deep moan fills the bedroom as she slumps her body flat on the mattress, her energy completely depleted, her thoughts filled with nothing but orgasmic bliss. Her coated hands rest on her bare waist, her tummy, leaving viscous sheen on her creamy pale skin.

When she isn’t screaming your name or touching herself to the thought of you, Yuqi, at her barest, looks so gorgeous like this. Flaws and all.

Albeit brief, it’s quite the show to more than satisfy your thirst for her. You remember your uninvited presence in this room and where you stand in this relationship. That she’s only a tenant—an acquaintance at best—and nothing more. Any other person and situation would already send you damning to hell. 

So you quietly leave, gather your bearings, hoping her haze doesn’t clear before she is made aware of your presence, but you hear a faint whisper right as you close the door, clearer than any whine of pleasure:

“Hey.”

Part of you wants to ignore her, pretend this is all a huge misunderstanding and feign ignorance. Then you hear her soft, alluring voice calling your name and it’s what ultimately folds you:

“W-what time is it?”

Again, you consider the choice of entertaining her question or leaving her dry. She��ll probably fall asleep shortly after and forget these few moments. You tell her it’s three in the morning, hoping she dozes off.

She doesn’t.

“Shit. Can you come inside? I mean—come in.”

She’s still thinking about you, and it’s admittedly cute. You love how unabashedly blunt—and lewd—she is when she’s drunk. You give her the benefit of the doubt and reenter the room.

Yuqi realizes the messy state she and her bedroom are in when you turn on the lights. Cheeks puffed and red from embarrassment, she tries to hop off the mattress, only to stumble to the floor on her fours. 

“I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t think you’d—” 

“Hey hey, it’s fine.” You grab her off the floor and sit her on the bed. “Don’t apologize. I’ll get some water; stay here and rest.”

Your eyes are meeting, hers twinkling. In those few, crucial moments, right when you’re about to leave, you feel an irresistible tug pulling you closer to each other.

Suddenly, Yuqi pulls you in by the shirt for a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips taste like actual whisky and vodka, indicating what she drank earlier that night. Yet they feel so lush, so sweet, filled with so much passion. You don’t bother trying; you fold to your lust, submit to her desire. You sink onto the bed together, never breaking apart, even for a second. Next thing you know, her hands are all over your body, roaming your chest, coiled around your neck, removing the shirt over your head to be tossed aside and completely forgotten.

Yet there’s still some resistance. Despite making the first move, she pulls back, and you do so in return. You’re hovering on top of her—an unexpected but welcome position to be in. 

“I didn’t know what got me there. I’m sorry. I just felt this sudden need to kiss you and—”

You shut her up by diving in and kissing her again, pinning Yuqi down to the mattress—the very thing that got you into this position to begin with. With you all over her, she’s able to shed the rest of your clothes: first the slacks, followed by your boxers. She mewls at the sensation of your hard cock pressed against her slit, and it’s beyond what her imagination can describe. It’s electrifying. And God, you know you’re no better than her, but you just want to fuck her right then and there, give her everything she wants without a second thought. 

Grabbing you by the scalp, she rips your lips off her chin as you’re making your way down her neck. “Not yet. Nuh uh.” She pulls you into yet another kiss, as if you’re oxygen—and in a way, it’s appropriate: you’re breathing new life into her. “Did I ever tell you that you were a good kisser?”

“Not at all,” you tell her, gently shaking your head. “You’re not half bad yourself.”

“Half bad?” Yuqi raises a sharp eyebrow, seemingly offended by your backhanded compliment. A dangerous smirk forms on her lips. “Says the one who was watching me the entire time—”

“You knew?” There’s a heightened sense of panic in your voice. “I thought  you were—”

“Shhh.” She kisses you, pulls you into a warm cuddle atop her. Slender legs wrapped around your hips, she follows: “Less talk, more lovemaking.”

And more lovemaking you do. You grow more easily acquainted with her lips than with her personality, and you barely know them: it’s only been a few minutes. Even though it’s a Thursday, the weekend feels like a lifetime away. You should be up five hours from now; you have the alarm preset and everything. But Yuqi’s getting in your way again, as she always has, and this won’t certainly be the last. She’s so hypnotic, so alluring, you find yourself unable to slip away, no matter how hard you try.

You find that it’s easier to give in than to struggle aimlessly. 

It’s effortless to get your fingers pressed inside her sopping core, brushing along sensitive, wet ridges of skin, where thoughts of you manifested into thin, delicate strokes. Her moans ring against your ears in varying pitches, each with a distinct, pulsing plea of satisfaction. Keep going, she tells you, and you follow without complaint. All this while you leave a soft path of bite marks down her neck and collarbones, until you reach her petite chest.

And fuck, you just go down on Yuqi. Sucking on her breasts like you’re in the middle of an oasis in the desert. She goes wild. Tossing, turning, trembling. You can feel her body close on you, wanting to take you in and suffocate you. The bed is creaking, growing strikingly more intense, turbulent. All this spurring you on, making you more reckless, more daring with her. 

“Mmmmm—fuck!” She lets out a hum of desperation, her hot, shaky breath fogging on your skin. You become an intertwined labyrinth of limbs that fit together, where you have no idea where it begins and where it ends. Your fingers vanish between her legs, still working tirelessly, perfectly snug around her pussy even when crushed between the weight of her thighs.

Eventually, you find yourself staring aimlessly at Yuqi. She’s so beautiful, and you’re punching yourself mentally, wondering why it took so long to come to this conclusion. Even when she’s not rocking the trendy hair color of the week and her face is a canvas for every conceivable makeup and filter, she’s naturally pretty. Especially now, completely bare—and with nothing but an exasperated, satisfied look of inebriated, lust filled bliss.

You find the light peeking from the living room, casting a shadow between your tangled legs. She’s dripping at her core, showering your fingers with a fresh flow of sheen, messing up the sheets even further if that’s even possible. They’re beyond saving at this point, and so are you. 

Rolling to her side, Yuqi wraps her arm around you, as if enticing you to stay. You shouldn’t have done this, but it’s too late: there’s no going back. You’re too lazy to close the door, and you have the girl you previously never gave a second look rubbing lazy circles on your stomach with her coated nails. Her hair draped all over your arm and shoulder, her eyes looking up at yours, acting all soft and innocent—

Until she starts talking again. “It wouldn’t be complete unless you cum inside me, wouldn’t it?”

The difference between her body language and her lips is night and day. Right then and there, you immediately recognize that there’s no other way this night will end. How your body moves at her will, how you immediately roll on top of her, as if it’s programmed to follow her every command. You have her legs pressed up and spread wide, her knees bent, lining your aching cock against the wet slit of her cunt. All while her features twist into a sickening, slimy grin in the slim shape of a lip bite. The fire, the desire—it’s still as bright as ever. 

And to make sure you aren’t second guessing the idea, her arms are coiled around your neck, her hands grabbing at your hair, pressing on your nape. Yuqi wants you—needs you—to fuck her silly; it’s the only way she can be satiated.

You watch Yuqi’s expression contort from anxious to messy, and the feeling is mutual. You slip in, slow and delicate, going against her instruction, and you almost lose it at the first stroke. The deep, guttural moan you make echoes throughout the entire apartment, while her firm walls pulse against your cock. It’s hot, it’s tense, it’s suffocating. 

“Shit, shit, shit—” you mutter, gently trying to pull back, but the fiery sensation burns, scratches away at your psyche, at your loins. “So—fucking—tight—Yuqi—fuck.”

“C’mon. Fuck me. Fuck me now.” She kisses your ear, her legs pounding against your hips, demanding you to move. There’s some serious intent behind her tone, a seamless blend of demand and impatience. “Use that big cock—mmm!”

You can only groan in response as you thrust back in deep, her grip on your body tighter than ever. And it’s more than just her cunt; she’s clinging onto you for dear life.

It hardly matters when you’re leaving sore, red marks on her skin or ripping through the blankets. It hardly matters when Yuqi can barely breathe. It hardly matters when you’re so loud that everyone can hear you. What’s important is you’re fucking her—and you’re fucking her hard. You both love the filthiness to it. There’s no rhythm, no pace, no flow; it’s one slow deep thrust, followed by a fast pump into her tight, inviting cunt. You become comfortable; you take her like she’s meant to be used.

And Yuqi takes your cock so fucking well. Bounces against every stroke with ease, as if the feeling is second nature to her. Knowing her, she’s probably been in this position more than you’d want to know or hear. You don’t really care about that for now. Even after what seems to be an endless cascade of orgasms, she’s still keening, still needy, still soaking wet that it’s alarming. Her back arches, melts deep into the cushion. She still wants more.

“So—fucking—good—more—need—fuck—”

The only noise you need is the mesh of your flesh slapping against hers, bouncing against her sharp cries of pain and pleasure. Reaching into the deepest, most sensitive parts of her pussy with your cock, this violent shudder rocks both you and Yuqi to your core. With each drag, more of her slick coats your shaft, and the easier you get access to her smothering heat. You can’t find the will to stop, not that you ever want to; she feels so warm, so inviting, so sloppy sounding to the ears that it’s driving you just as crazy as her.

It’s also driving you wild why it took you this long to fuck her—use her—like this. If you had known, you would have cared sooner. You’d have some leverage when it came to negotiations. A body like hers is too good not to have on speed dial.

Right now, it’s the least of your concerns. Not when you’re pounding a tight body like Yuqi’s so freely, hearing her demand to fuck her harder, like your life’s depending on it. Better late than never.

And it’s for the best that the moment happens later rather than sooner. She cums. Cums again. Eventually you’ve stopped counting, because there’s no point. The mere thought of you restarts the cycle, and your touch accelerates the process. The clutch of her cunt is too overwhelming to avoid at this point; it’s all but directly telling you to fill her, to unload all that pent up tension and need into her. The thought never bubbled up in your head even once; the idea of you and Yuqi with a child together. You never really questioned it. She goes out often, probably gets fucked multiple times in one night if she’s with willing company. She probably knew you’d walk in on her; hell, she’s probably got this whole thing planned out and Minnie is one of her accomplices. Maybe the entire time, she’s been yearning for you, because you’ve never heard her this passionate, this loud, this filthy in your life, even at her most inebriated.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me. I’m safe, don’t worry,” she whispers, as if she’s reading through your mind, reassuring you from your doubts. Her hand is palming your back, as if to line you straight so your cock directly hits her sweet spot. She sounds so pretty, it’s almost impossible to resist.

“Gonna cum,” you tell her, voice going hoarse, rasp, and she nods immediately in return, reinforcing the notion. She’s focused her effort on holding on, her legs tightly wrapped around your waist, her arms coiled around your neck, subtly pushing you against her hips. 

“This—pussy—so—fucking—God,” you mindlessly utter, averting her doe eyed gaze, desperate to cling to the last of your resolve as it quickly dissolves with each thrust. You’re on borrowed time and it’s quickly slipping away. Yuqi is tilting your face down to her, to her airy breaths, to her fluttering eyelids, to her passionate expression as you fuck her, pushing you over the edge. “Holy fuck, Yuqi—”

Yuqi’s lips part like a flower in bloom, and it’s a pretty sight. Yet it’s not enough of a distraction to keep everything from falling into place.

And God, it fucking burns. 

You swallow hard, but are unable to keep that groan suppressed. Your hips meet her halfway, your cock comfortably buried deep in her heat, and that’s where you come undone. Yuqi digs deep into your skin as it fills her—your cum—and she goes frozen at that moment. It’s a quiet, tense flash of silence. Afterward, she finally breaks. Cries out this deafening whine, her grip all over you loosening, time eventually catching up to her. 

She lays beneath you, completely limp, but her body remains trembling, shaking, seizing. You don’t find the strength to drag your cock from her heat; the feeling lingers. Endless ropes of cum gushing into her womb, emptying yourself, just as she wanted. Then you pull out, agonizingly slow, and more viscous slick gushes from her core. 

You feel guilty for that poor patch of soaked linen between her legs. It’s about as ruined as a collapsed power plant.

There’s little need for Yuqi to beg you to stay. The climax saps whatever energy you had left. You end up slumping flat on your belly beside her, both of you bathed in the afterglow of sex, exhausted from an already long day, too worn out to make another sound. And when you’re tired, any bed, no matter how messy it may be, is a comfortable bed.

—————

You already expected the scene at the breakfast table to be awkward.

And it was.

It isn’t until Yuqi calls you out standing at the doorway of her room that you realize you’ve been shooting a thousand yard stare the whole time. She waves at you, her cheeks red, flustered, chuckling. “Good morning to you, I guess. Put something on. I don’t wanna drink coffee while looking at someone’s dick. It’s gross.”

This time you’re the one unbecoming, completely in the nude while she got herself into some pajamas. Despite that, you hardly feel any guilt or shame, like this is a normal occurrence in the household. So you scramble to your room and get appropriately dressed. A look at the time and it’s already 15 past ten in the morning, an hour later than when you normally start work. Even more unusual is the absence of the laptop. It’s just Yuqi and her coffee.

Sitting opposite Yuqi, today seems a bit more tense than normal, and you can guess the reason why. She knows it, too. Neither of you are willing to break the ice, only shooting occasional glares at each other while sipping on coffee and scrolling through your phones.

“So, Yuqi.”

The words slip from your mouth, accidental, nearly silent. They follow the mild screech of the chair she sits on. When you meet eye to eye, she asks what’s up. What's on your mind? There’s a sudden barrier in your throat. You have a vague idea of what to say, but not the power to speak them. 

“About last night—”

Her lack of response is unnerving. The visible curiosity, the probable apathy. You and her possibly sharing the same sentiment: a feeling of regret. 

“I—I just wanted to say sorry. For last night. I should have just—”

“Sorry for what?”

You suddenly stop. This is not the expected reaction; it’s the complete opposite. A moment where you face the consequences of your actions.

Yuqi stands up and walks over to your side, beaming from ear to ear. “What we did last night was—fucking amazing. Don’t feel bad. If anything, I should feel bad because I didn’t tip you off sooner. We could have done so much more.”

You don’t pick up on the implication right away. It’s all strange, uncharted territory. Your previous flings were simple one-and-dones: a night of reckless, frivolous fun. Short, but fun nonetheless. They would disappear in the morning, never to be seen again.

“I didn’t think you’d walk through that door, especially since it was three in the morning,” says Yuqi, casual, running her fingers through your hair. “I got a bit too silly, as usual, but there’s a good reason for it.”

“And that is?”

“I got a job!” Yuqi’s gripping to your shoulder, the only thing keeping her from jumping for joy. “I got a job at the cafe with the pretty lady. I start on Monday.”

It’s certainly a cause for celebration. You can’t help but root and smile for her, caressing her hands. “Well, damn. Congratulations.”

“Yeah!” Yuqi’s wrapped you in a rather heartwarming embrace that you willingly fold into. “I had the interview yesterday, so I needed to lock in. Needed to be alone. Then I got accepted after, so I went and bought some drinks to celebrate.”

That doesn’t surprise you one bit. You’re just thrilled that she’s finally getting somewhere.

“So—does that mean I can kick you out once you get your first paycheck?” you ask her.

“I guess so. But—” Yuqi pauses, tilts your chin on an incline. She’s warm, radiant, pretty. She doesn’t care that you’ve worded yourself poorly and you’re taking it back; she’s still riding off the high from yesterday. You’re already counting the days before she leaves, and admittedly, you’ll miss that sight. “I’m gonna miss staying with you. Thanks for having my back when I needed it. I honestly don’t know how I will ever repay you.”

She tops it up with a quick peck on your lips. It’s all over your face, etched completely in red. The devilish grin. 

“I think I know exactly how.”

And that’s all that needed to be said.

Before you know it, you’re right back at square one: clothes scattered everywhere on the floor, her body pressed on the mattress, flat on her belly, your cock stretching her pussy out as you fuck her mindlessly from behind. This time in the comfort of your own bedroom.

All the more reason for you two to stay together.

—————

(A/N: fucksorryforgoingonanotherhiatusfuckfuckfuck—)

(Okay, but I really do wanna apologize for going on yet another unannounced hiatus. Final weeks of the semester were hell, then I was on vacation the week I promised this fic would be released (I'm basically the LeBron James of K-smut when it comes to lying at this point), not to mention a health scare courtesy of my mother. Some very hard times have hit me lately, so my mind wasn't 100%. Nevertheless, I am still standing (shoutout Elton John). Lots of free time throughout June and July, so hopefully nothing bad happens ISTG lemme have some peace for once and let me fucking write goddammit—)

(In non-personal news, Yuqi's solo was very fun and she's getting on that Yena level of bias where she's the perfect blend of cute and hot. Then she went pink recently and that made me :pphurt: Sort of a feel out fic before I *finally* finish these commissions over the coming weeks, thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi

[moonstruckme]

Hey! Unsure what happened but I copy+pasted a request into my doc and now it's gone :( Anyway to whoever sent this, thank you!

Request: can i request hurt/comofort with high!reader x buzzed!sirius (or poly!mar whatever you’d like) where reader smokes a little more then she can handle and he takes care of her but he’s like still a little high himself, if that makes sense TT just nice and lovey and dovey!!!!

cw: weed, greening out, mention of vomit/nausea

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 727 words

Sirius is trying to be comforting, but he keeps getting distracted by the feel of your back underneath his hand. The muscles of your shoulders are tight, your breathing stilted and your skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat. Sirius can’t stop thinking about how he’d like to rest his face in between your shoulder blades and kiss an adoring line down your spine. He worries it wouldn’t be very helpful. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is quieter than breath, a soft sigh drooping your shoulders as you let your head loll forward. 

Your body starts to list forward with it. Sirius weaves his arm under yours, settling down more comfortably on the bathroom floor and pulling you back against his chest. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He kisses the crown of your head. “I should have warned you about this. I need to remember to be careful with you.” 

Caution isn’t really in Sirius’ nature, but however unwisely, you put a lot of trust in him. The weed you’d smoked tonight was a different strain than the one he’s shared with you before, but he’d forgotten to clue you in. You’d matched him hit for hit, and with your lower tolerance it hadn’t ended well. You’ve been sick more than once. 

“You’re so nice,” you whisper. Your voice sounds tight. Sirius’ chest contracts, worrying you’re starting to get teary. “You don’t have to take care of me, but you are. You’re so, so nice.” Definitely teary now. “I’m really sorry for ruining your night.” 

“Aw, sweetheart.” He kisses the side of your face with something akin to desperation. He already feels like his heart is going to spill right out of his ribcage, and your upset makes it about ten times worse. “You’re not ruining anything. Of course I have to take care of you, you’re my girl, you know? I want to.” 

He peers around you, trying to see your face. You’ve got that same, slightly spaced-out look you’ve had for the past hour, a sad little line between your brows. Sirius reaches up to smooth it out with his finger, and you turn toward him like you’d forgotten he was there. He wonders if this much affection can actually crush his bones to dust. It feels plausible.

“I love you,” he says. 

You sigh, fitting your head into the crook of his neck and shoulder. It’s not a happy sound, but he knows it’s not meant for him. “You, too.” 

You take his hand, turning it palm up and tracing the lines in his skin. Your touch is so light it tickles. He has a small scar from a failed attempt at cooking with James when he first moved out, and when you get to it you raise his palm to your lips, resting them there purposefully. 

“Can I have a hug?” you mumble against his skin. 

“Fuck yeah, always.” 

Sirius does the work of turning you around, your own coordination not spectacular at the moment, and your arms curl under his arms, wrists crossing between his shoulder blades. He thinks your hands might be making fists. For his part, he rubs up and down your spine slowly, squeezing intermittently, unsure how much you want. Sirius has always been shit at comfort. He’ll keep trying as long as you let him.

“I don’t like this,” you admit. Your face feels warm where it’s pressing into his shoulder, and Sirius realizes you might be crying again. He hugs you harder. “I can’t think.” 

He feels, very acutely, his heart fracturing. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, “I’m so sorry. I know it’s awful.” 

“I’m scared,” you whimper. 

“I know, sweet girl.” He may well be crushing you now. If your ribs are breaking, you don’t seem inclined to say anything about it. “You’ll be okay, though, I promise. I’ve got you. Just try to relax, and I’ll take care of you, yeah?” You don’t respond, sniffling. Sirius rubs your back again. “Do you feel like you’re going to be sick any more, darling?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” 

“Alright, my lovely. Let’s go to bed, okay? You might feel better when you wake up.” 

You hug him tighter. “Thank you for being so nice to me.” 

“Wrong again,” he says, tucking a kiss into your hair. “I’m not nice to you, I just love you too much.” 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x self insert #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders #marauders x reader #tw weed #tw nausea

[writtenbymoonflower]

I hope this is where requests go :)

I was hoping you could wright poly marauders x fem reader. Their at a bar/club and don’t know each other yet. Reader is dancing and someone starts to harass and or touch her inappropriately. Either the three marauders notice or she goes to them for help.

I totally understand if this is to uncomfy to wright :)

Hope your having a good day ☀️☀️☀️

thanks for requesting, hunny! I hope this is okay! fem!reader x poly!marauders

cw: sexual harassment, non-consensual manhandling

1k words

You were so clammy that if your clothes weren’t already skin-tight, they would likely be clinging to your form by now. You’d only had a few drinks, but the alcohol combined with the crowd of bodies enough to make your face flush and your hair frizz as you stood in the throes of the dance floor. Your friends had long since strayed away with their new dance partners. The bar wasn’t very crowded, members were sparse enough for groups to spread out and you were still able to spot the people you came with, looking flustered from lust and liquor. You waved when one of your friends made eye contact with you, a dizzy smile on their face before their attention was pulled back to better things.

Unfortunately, someone else had spotted your friendly expression and misinterpreted it as an invitation. You tried to look away but it was too late, the figure of an unknown man started happily (if not slightly unnervingly) striding towards you. You plastered on a polite smile as the man sidled up next to you, a little too close for comfort.

“Hey there, lassie.” He slurred, a sickening grin on his face.

“Hi. How are you doing?” You asked politely.

“Better since seein’ you.” He squeezed your shoulder a bit too hard. You wrapped your arms around your middle and inched away slightly but the man just inched with you plus some. You laughed uncomfortably.

“C’mon, birdie. Let me get you a drink.” He moved his hand to grip the meat of your arm, dragging you over to the bar counter.

“Oh- no thank you. I’m okay.” You tried to pull away but he tightened his hand.

“I insist. It might loosen you up some, eh?” He raked his eyes up and down your form, licking his lips at what he saw. You wanted to puke on the spot. You tried to pull away again.

“I’m really sorry, I’m just not in the mood. I’m just gonna go-“

“Don’t be like that, missy.” His eyebrows knotted in aggravation. “I’m gonna get you a drink.” His grip tightened again, his blunt nails digging painfully into your arm. He ignored your protests to drag you closer to the bar, ignoring the patrons you were bumping into. You muttered apologies until you made one of them drop a bottle on the ground.

“Shit! I’m so sorry.” You said, panicked. This made the man stop pulling you, but he didn’t release his hold. You looked at the people you just trampled.

You couldn’t see well in the bright lighting, but there were two men. One was quite tall and lean, with light, fluffy hair and an intense stare. There were a few marks across his face, but they only added to his strange allure. The other was a bit shorter. He was dressed to the nines, all bold clothes and heavy makeup, long dark hair pulled back to show sharp features. It was the latter one who spoke up.

“You’re grand, chick. Don’t sweat it.” He gave you an awfully kind smile that made your stomach flip. “Are you okay?” You saw him cut his eyes to where your arm was still being held, and his face hardened slightly. You noticed the taller when was staring something harsh at the man next to you.

“We’re fine.” The man said, trying to pull you away again. He didn’t get more than a step before a commanding voice stopped you both in your tracks.

“We weren’t talking to you. We were talking to her.” The light-haired boy said, leaving no room for argument. You looked awfully embarrassed at the whole situation. The shorter one spoke again.

“Are you okay, love?” He was not searching your face, brows knotted together. Something in his face made you feel safe. You didn’t say anything, hoping your face would convey everything. They both looked with solemn understanding.

“Hey lads!” A broad shouldered man with glasses and an infuriatingly gorgeous head of hair joined the group, wrapping his arms around the two other men. “What’s going on here?” His tone was jovial and friendly, but there was a slight edge when he saw the hand that was still wrapped around your arm.

“Nothing much.” The tallest boy said casually. “We were just talking to dovey here.” He cut his eyes to the man who was now loosening his grip. “That lad was just leaving.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Ah, I see.” The one with the broad shoulders said. “Need help getting to your car, mate?”

“I’m fine.” The man dropped your arm and huffed as he walked away, giving you a dirty look as he did. You slumped immediately, rubbing your sore arm.

“Thank you.” You said shamefully, looking down at your shoes. “I’m sorry about all that. I’ll just-“ you started to step away.

“Don’t be sorry, lovie.” The curly haired one said warmly. His big brown eyes were soft as butter behind his glasses.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The light-haired one said. “Do you wanna stay over here for a minute, just until you know he’s gone?”

“If that’s okay, I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Sweet thing like you? Feel free to intrude.” The long haired one fixed you with a salacious grin that made your insides flip, but not how the other man’s did. This feeling was pleasant. The tallest one still looked irritated, but seemingly not at you.

“Is your arm okay? He was grabbing you pretty hard.”

“It doesn’t even hurt.” You lied, and you could see him starting to protest, but he was interrupted by his friend.

“Moons! Let us get introduced before you start interrogating the poor thing.” The glasses-wearing boy faux-scolded. ‘Moons’ just rolled his eyes. The long-haired one jabbed his friend with his elbow.

“Ignore the lack of manners on our friend here. The rude one is Remus, that brute is James. And I’m Sirius.” The shorter boy leaned his head of inky hair against James’ shoulder. Remus lightly smiled at you, leaning down a little to meet your face.

“It’s nice you meet you.” You couldn’t fight the smile taking over your own face.

“Pleasure’s all ours, lovely.” James grinned. Your stomach flipped again, and you had a feeling you might stick around these three a little longer than anticipated.

#poly!marauders #poly marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders angst #marauders fanfiction #the maruaders #the marauders era #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #marauders #fan fiction #remus lupin #james pottter #sirius plack #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #anon request

[fum1ku]

FIRST “I LOVE YOU” - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, kei tsukishima, koushi sugawara, kenma kozume, hajime iwaizumi, tobio kageyama

OSAMU: it had been a long day at onigiri miya. rush hour had kicked ‘samu’s ass and he had just now, it being well past 9pm, stumbled into his apartment. as soon as he entered the door he lazily kicked off his work shoes and tossed his keys aside, collapsing into the arm chair in his living room. took a second, but he finally heard you shuffling around in the kitchen.

“baby?” he mumbled, hardly picking his head up enough to look to where he thought you were.

“‘samu? sorry, didn’t hear you come in. how was work?” you shouted from the kitchen.

he finally dragged himself up and into the kitchen to find you, stirring around a pot on the stove. and just a few seconds later he heard the rice cooker go off.

he could smell the delicious, savory smell of the curry you were heating on the stove. his eyes brighten when he watched you pile up the the fluffy rice into a bowl and scoop some of the curry you made on top.

placing it down on the counter you called, “‘samu?”

he quickly snapped back into reality. “work? sorry. work was.. rough. long day. tired.”

“oh, i’m sorry, baby. at least you have tomorrow off,” you smiled, making another bowl of rice and curry.

he wrapped his arms around your waist as you stood over the stove, burying his face into your neck. he could smell the soft scent of your perfume mixed with your shampoo.

“didn’t think you were comin’ over,” he mumbled.

“yeah.. sorry, ‘samu. i just let myself in. i saw how busy the shop was today and thought you might like something to eat once you finally got home.”

you were both quiet for awhile. you had set your second bowl aside and just stood there, feeling the warmth of osamu’s breath against your neck. until osamu finally spoke up.

“i love you,” he said, his words muffled into the crook of your neck.

you laughed. “i love you too, ‘samu. let’s go eat, okay?”

KEI: it had been your first time meeting kei’s family. everything was going well, so far. his mother was the sweetest. and akiteru made you laugh while he told you all the embarrassing bits of tsukishima’s childhood. but, between chatting and dinner, kei made the executive decision to drag you up to his room for awhile to take a break—just him and you. plus you had just been begging to see his childhood room.

he plopped down on his bed as you shut the door behind you. you took a minute to glance around his room, noticing the dinosaur figurines lined on his shelf; the few posters on his wall.

“this was your room in high school?” you mused, holding back your laugher.

“yeah. what about it?” he snarked.

“it’s just so.. y’know?”

“sure. whatever,” he said, folding his glasses and putting them to the side as he later down on his bed.

you spent another minute glancing around the room again. then, smirking, you made your way over to kei’s bed. you laid down right atop of him, wrapping your arms around his slim torso.

“what are you doing?” he questioned, an annoyed tone laced into his words. “you’re squishing me.”

“good,” you mumbled into his chest.

“idiot,” he grimaced, only to whisper a soft “i love you” afterwards.

you perked your head up.

“oh? kei tsukishima loves me?” you teased.

“oh, shut up. idiot.”

KOUSHI: you both had worked at the same school for over a year now. he had been the first person to show you around the campus and introduce to you the best cafe for lunch just around the corner from the school yard. he took you there often, especially after you two were official.

you sat just across from him as you picked around at the plate in front of you, taking an occasional sip of your coffee. you were rambling about the kids in your class—how amazing, talented, and smart they all were—and about future lesson plan ideas.

koushi listened intently. smiling as your eyes beamed with excitement as your bounced from topic to topic.

“oh! koushi! we could do a whole lesson around this book—shoot. i don’t remember the name of it. but i know that—”

his eyes stared at you, lovesick. focused on the way your lips moved as your spoke; the way your eyes shined with pride as your went on and on about your students.

“i love you,” he said, stopping you in the middle of your rant.

you paused for a moment, feeling the red tint that overtook your face. “i-i love you too, koushi!”

he couldn’t help but softly laugh at your embarrassment. oh how he loved you.

KENMA: you often would hang out on the couch in the corner of kenma’s gaming room, reading a book or scrolling on your phone as he held his streams. you’d softly laugh to yourself as you watched your boyfriend play his games or respond to his fans in the chat.

as soon as his stream ended he’d toss his headphones to the side (maybe toss is an overstatement. those things were too expensive to toss) and make his way towards your corner of the room. he’d lay down on you and push his head under your arms as you still held your book in front of you.

you laughed as his antics, placing your book to the side. “tired, kozuken?”

he absolutely hated it when you called him by his streamer name, but he was too tired to care. he only nodded his head in response to your question.

this only made you laugh more. “shouldn’t have stayed up so late gaming last night, hm?”

he groaned in response, burying his face into your chest. you softy ran your hands through his hair.

“okay then, you big baby. take a nap with me then,” you smiled, planting a soft kiss atop his head.

“i love you, y/n,” he said, his words muffed—making it sound more like “i wughv vyou, y/n”.

you chuckled. “i love you too.. kozuken.”

HAJIME: iwaizumi always had early mornings as a trainer. your sexy boyfriend and his early morning runs, as you’d best describe it.

you noticed the dim light that shone through the cracks of the bathroom door. you rolled over and looked at the alarm on your bedside table. 4:58am. not even 5 o’clock yet,m. you groaned.

iwaizumi suddenly walked out the bathroom door.

“babe? go back to sleep, it’s early. you don’t have to be awake yet,” he softly said as he sat down at the edge of your shared bed, putting on his compression sleeves. you made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“haji,” you groaned. “come back to bed. it’s too early.”

“i know, i know, but i’ll be back before you even get up. promise.”

you sat up, still keeping your arms wrapped around him. you pressed a soft trail of kisses down his neck.

“or you could come back to bed with me right now,” you cooed in between a few kisses.

he turned around to face you, cupping each side of your face in his hands. he pressed his lips to yours for a quick kiss.

“i’ll be back before you know it,” he said, walking towards the door to your bedroom. “i love you!”

the door closed behind him. you groaned. “love you too, jackass!”

TOBIO: he loved you. he knew that way before he ever said it. he knew he loved you the day you showed up to his big game with his jersey on, smiling in the crowd. he knew he loved you when you iced his wrist after he screwed up during practice one day, scolding him for not being more careful. he knew he loved you when you’d get up to go on his morning runs with him on your days off—even if you lagged behind him and complained about how the cold morning air nipped at your skin. he loved you. so much. but saying it? a completely different scenario.

he was laying down in his bed as you brushed your teeth in his bathroom—the door wide open. you rinsed out your mouth, turned off the bathroom light, and made your way into bed beside him. you wrapped your arms around him, feeling his body go stiff beneath your touch. but, after a few seconds he eased into it.

you slowly drifted off to sleep, softly breathing beneath him. he was still wide awake, too focused on the way your hand rested against his chest for him to be able to sleep.

he sighed, breathlessly. “y/n.. i love you. so much.”

your body stirred beneath him. you pressed a kiss to his forearm as he tightly held onto you. “i love you too, tobio. s’much.”

his face went red. “i thought you were asleep..”

© fum1ku 2024

⁂ taglist: none currently !! let me know if you want to be added ;)

my requests are always open! please feel free to drop a lil something to keep me inspired with new ideas for fanfics <3

#haikyuu #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu x reader #osamu mikumo #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya x you #osamu miya x y/n #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #koushi sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi #kenma kozume #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume x you #haikyuu time skip #hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama x you #haikyuu kageyama #haikyuu karasuno #haikyuu inarizaki

[princessfbi]

The only sound in the quiet room is running water. + bucktommy

Bucktommy

The only sound in the quiet room is running water. That was the only thing Tommy could hear over the dull roar in his ears. Water. Cold, unfeeling water that dripped down his hands and turned pink in the sink before disappearing into the drain. He couldn’t get the blood off his hands. It was stained into his skin and refused to let go. But that made sense when it came to Evan he supposed. Evan had latched onto Tommy and refused to let go no matter how many times Tommy put distance between them. Sometimes to protect Evan. Sometimes to protect himself. A warmth had bloomed somewhere under his ribcage and sometimes it scared Tommy how much he craved it. It had only grown wide and all consuming with each passing day he got to spend with Buck until those days turned into nights. Nights that he treasured the quiet as he stared down at Evan’s sleeping form full of freckles and wild curls while he clung to Tommy. He couldn’t get the blood off. It was staining his skin. Tommy scrubbed harder. He needed more soap but that would only make it spread so he stripped his hands with tight fingers and then his nails as he tried to scrap it off and he— “Hey.” Chimney’s voice broke through the roar and Tommy wanted to sob in relief. But he didn’t. He held it in and pressed his lips together to keep from screaming. If he started, he didn’t know if he’d ever stop. “Tommy,” Chimney said, one hand on the small of Tommy’s heaving back and the other bullying his thumbnail away from his knuckle. The same knuckle Evan had pulled up to his lips in the car and kissed over and over and over again while he begged Tommy to stop. To let him run in for a snack. Tommy never should’ve stopped. They had snacks at home, he’d said. Then Buck had given him that insufferably sly grin that was too cute on his cheeks and admitted to eating them all. Tommy had stopped. He never should’ve stopped. Then there had been a kid with a bad attitude but hadn’t been bothering anyone. A shop owner with a twitch in his stink eye. Raised voices. Thrown chips. Fucking chips! Then a bang. The kid dropped and then ran. Buck had dropped and didn’t get up. “Evan! Baby! Baby hey! Eyes on me. Come on. You know the drill. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. Help’s coming. Just keep those eyes open baby. Get the fuck away from me! I’m here. I’m here baby. I know it hurts. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” “It was a trigger happy asshole, Tommy. You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” Chimney said and it was only then that Tommy heard the words beneath the water and the roar. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Tommy couldn’t get the blood off his hands. The blood that had stained his skin when he’d pressed down hard on the bullet wound in Evan’s gut. Tommy shook his head. He shouldn’t have stopped. He’d hurt him. Buck had whimpered and pleaded when Tommy had put pressure on the wound. He’d cried and begged him to stop. Tommy kept pressure until he was almost certain he was going to snap Buck in two. The water kept turning pink. Tommy needed more soap. He shouldn’t have stopped. He shouldn’t have… The sob shattered the silence into a million pieces and he barely registered the way his knees buckled as Chimney’s arms wrapped around him. They sank to the floor as Tommy gasped and then he cried so hard he barely made any noise. Just heaving, gasping jolts of his body as he tried to make sense of it all. Chips. Fucking chips. The water was still running as Chimney held him through it all.

#tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #chimney han #the ally and the beast #prompt game #Anon #my fic writing #royal decree

[symbiomancy]

speed dating —minotaur

—summary: a speed dating event brings you together with a minotaur // AO3

—cw: minotaur x human, smut (p in v sex), praise, size kink/size difference, creampie, semi-public sex

—wc: 1,2k

Speed dating.

It’s not like interspecies speed dating is anything new. Or interspecies dating in general. Because it isn’t.

It just… has a bad reputation when humans are involved.

You bristle when the fifth monster in your speed dating roster tonight brushes you off and opts to stare at their phone for the duration of your allotted time. Embarrassment nags in the back of your mind, heats up your cheeks, and you let your eyes do a subtle sweep of the room. Everyone else seems to be having a fun time, talking animatedly, wildly gesturing, giggling with their partner.

The four minutes drag and drag and drag.

The bell dings and the naga across from you tucks away their phone, stands, fixes their jacket lapels, and saunters over to the next table without even looking at you. You swallow the bitter taste of tears in the back of your throat and reach for your purse, tuck your phone inside, and swing it onto your shoulder.

When you sidestep the table, you nearly smack into another body.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” a voice says and you have to crane your neck to get a good look at the owner. A minotaur. He stands tall, biceps bulging in his white dress shirt, the topmost two buttons undone, tucked into a nice pair of pants. His horns curl towards the heavens. “Were you leaving?” You nod. “Ah, too bad, I’ve been waiting the whole evening for my turn.”

You pause, glance around the room, then raise a finger to point at yourself. “Me?”

“Yeah. But if you want to leave, that’s okay.”

“I haven’t exactly been the biggest hit with folks here tonight. Human reputation is hard to shake.” You gnaw on your bottom lip, glance up at him, and then at the small table with an LED candle in the middle of it and your half-finished drink. Then, you drop your purse and take your seat again. “I can stay for one more round, I guess.”

He’s unexpectedly fun. A good conversationalist. He doesn’t talk over you, actually engages with you, unlike pretty much everyone else you’re been paired with.

When the bell dings and he stands, something in your chest withers, but you offer him a smile and thank him for the company.

How you end up in the bathroom of the bar with him after the crowd for the speed-dating event dissipates, you’re not sure but —

You’re not complaining.

The minotaur lifts you off the floor with ease, muscles bulging against his tight shirt, and settles your back against the stall wall. It’s a tight fit and so you open your legs, lock them around his hips. His torso is wide and your toes barely meet behind his back. The bulge in his pants presses against your underwear, sopping, ruined underwear and you stifle the moan when you realize how big he is.

“Please, please, please.”

He shushes you, hastily unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other finding purchase on your clothed cunt. He runs a thick finger across the fabric, presses it over your hole. In the next moment, you hear fabric rip and feel the cool caress of air against your bottom. He bunches the sad excuse for fabric up and tucks it into his back pocket.

His cock springs free from his pants and it’s huge, thick, veiny, dribbling precum. You nearly salivate at the sight, consider fighting your way down to take it into your mouth even if it doesn’t fit — you’ll make it fit.

The minotaur pulls back, angles your body, firm hands on your ass — Christ, his hand nearly wraps around your entire thigh — and slides inside you in one smooth move. You moan, gasp for breath when he keeps going, stretching, intruding, until he’s buried to the hilt. He’s large, so large, so thick you can barely clench around him and he’s stretching your poor pussy to its limit but it’s so good, so full. You let your head tip back, rest it against the wall, try to gather your thoughts, and close your gaping mouth but your thoughts keep circling back to his cock, and how good he feels.

“So wet,” he mutters and jerks his hips experimentally, too shallow to give you any relief. You open your mouth again to beg him for some friction when he pulls out and thrusts back in roughly and firmly and you cannot stifle the lewd moan that escapes you, bounces off the bathroom walls. Heat rushes to your cheeks, sets your whole body alight because if someone hears —

The minotaur snaps his hips again and your composure begins to crumble, your mouth drops because he’s deep, so deep he could rearrange your guts and you’d thank him for the experience. You clench around him, barely, but you manage and he grunts, huffs a hot breath against the crook of your neck.

“Hot, so hot.” The tail end of his words dissipate into a groan. He sets a pace, his cock dragging so deliciously against your walls you swear you can feel every single vein and ridge, his hands on your waist, pulling you forward with every thrust to meet him halfway. “You take it so well,” he says, words slurring.

“M-More. More.” You can barely form the words. He thrusts up, hits the spot that has you seeing stars. Fuck, you’re close, so close. You put more weight onto your back, putting all your trust into the flimsy stall wall, and push back against the minotaur’s frantic thrusting. He’s so deep, so big, your pussy might just be ruined after this.

He pauses and you almost want to cry out, to beg for him to continue, as he moves his hands to adjust his grip on your ass. When he thrusts forward again, he pulls you flush against his pelvis and you nearly shriek as the blunt tip of his cock touches your cervix. His pace is brutal, the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy echoes in the small confined room. The pressure in your stomach coils, your hips desperately thrusting back against him, matching his frenzied pace, drilling into your cunt faster, deeper.

You come with a half-choked moan, clench around him, try to escape his grip, and press yourself into it at the same time. White-hot pleasure rolls under your skin, leaves your ears ringing. The minotaur speeds up, thrusts once, twice, and buries himself into your hot, wet pussy to the hilt. He spills inside with a low groan and a full-body shudder.

You press your back flush against the bathroom stall wall and attempt to regain control of your breathing. A sheen of sweat coats your skin, making the already scratchy top cling to your torso.

The minotaur is silent, hot, heavy breaths fanning the side of your neck, his chest heaving.

A lazy smile drags onto your lips and you look down at him through your bleary gaze, and tap him on the shoulder. He grunts against your skin. “You wanna do this again sometime? You owe me a new pair of underwear.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he raises his eyes to meet yours. You press your lips together to fight the smile that stretches farther.

“It’s only fair.”

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #teratophillia #minotaur x human #minotaur x reader #monster x you

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Hold on~

Satoru Gojo x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, oral (female receiving), fingering, nipple play/sucking, a bit of edging, pure fucking

“Ngh! Toru~” You moaned as you felt his tongue run along your swollen clit.

“Oh fuck, baby. You taste so sweet!” He said, swirling his tongue around the little nub between your folds.

Your back arched up into the air as he pressed a hand on your lower abdomen. His silver tongue worked masterfully on your little bundle of nerves, his fingers digging in and out of your soaking cunt.

Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging at little strands eliciting a soft moan from him.

“I can’t get enough of you. Everything about you is just…so fucking perfect. Perfect just for me. And only me~” He said as he continued his motions.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as his tongue flicked back and forth with such a vigorous speed. You had already cum on his tongue before and that was enough for you. But not for him. Not even close.

He was obsessed with you, maybe almost too much. But he didn’t care. You are his everything. You are his world and he will do everything to protect you and make you feel loved. This being one of those ways.

”Toru…p-please slow down~ I jus’ came~” You whined, trying to scoot away from him. He hummed, feeling you try to wriggle your way out of his grasp. In turn, he wrapped his arms around your legs and quite literally pulled you into his face, locking you in that position so that you couldn’t move away from him anymore.

It was selfish of him, he knew that. But he needed this so bad. He needed you so bad. Your taste was just too addicting…so delicious…so sweet. He didn’t think he’d ever stop if he could.

Just hearing your beautiful whines and moans set him off. He loved that he was the only one able to do this to you. He loved that you were only his and he was only yours.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry…just bear with me okay?” He moaned, almost whimpering. He felt his cock pulse every minute that passed by. The situation you were both in rushed his blood right to his dick. He wanted to be inside of you; to feel your gummy, slick walls milking him completely dry. The thought of filling you up with his cum, seeing it slip out made him go feral. E

You couldn’t do anything but just take what he was giving to you. Tears were already beginning to prickle in your eyes, threatening to spill out any moment from the pleasure.

“”s too good, Toru~” You whined, feeling him push in another finger. He was knuckle-deep inside of you now, trying to reach any spot inside that was left untouched. He knew exactly how you liked it, and that’s what he was giving you. He knew where to pump, where to suck, where to lick, everything.

Just then, he rubbed against a spot inside of you that made your eyes widen, a rush of tingles and warmth ran up your whole body.

“I can feel you. Your pussy is clenching around my fingers, baby. You’re close to cumming again, huh?” He asked, his voice softening up into a whimper-like tone. You nodded, struggling to get any coherent words out of your mouth.

”Tell me how bad you want to cum. I need to hear your sweet innocent voice tell me.” He ordered, curling his fingers inside.

You closed your eyes, struggling to handle what he was doing to you.

”Come on baby~ Let me hear your sweet voice…” He said, going back to sucking and flicking your clit.

”Toru~Please let me cum! I need it so badly. Only you can do this to me! I need you to let me cum! Please, please, please!” You begged, feeling your high come closer and closer.

”Good girl…you’re such a good girl for me, you know that? And what do good girls get?” He asked before speeding his hand up, thrusting his skilled fingers in and out of you at an inhumane speed.

You tried to place your hands down towards his moving hand, but he sat up and grabbed both of your hands with his free one. He pushed them above your head, caging you underneath him.

”Just let it happen, baby~Let me make you cum your brains out~” He said in your ear, licking the outer shell. The room was filled with a mix of both yours and his moans, the lewd noises coming from your pussy and his fingers making it all the better.

”Cum…cum for me, pretty girl~” He said, placing open mouthed kisses along your neck.

”Toru…Toru…Toru!” You screamed as you felt the coil inside you break. A huge wave of pleasure surged throughout your body, your pussy clenching tightly around his fingers.

He didn’t stop moving though, he kept going, wanting to make you squirt. His fingers rammed in and out of you at the same speed, making you writhe underneath him.

“N-No, Toru! Stop or I’ll…I’ll-“

”I know.” He replied, his eyes clouded with pure lust and love for you. He pressed his thumb down on your clit, rubbing up and down, causing a clear liquid to come out of you. It was like a waterfall that landed all over the bed and on his hand. It was a beautiful sight to him. And It only made him want to do it all over again…and again…and again. Fuck, he wanted to make you pass out from it all, which he could easily do. It would be so easy too.

He played with the liquid on his hands, stretching his fingers out to see the clear, slimy residue coating his fingers. He placed them in his mouth, staring directly at you as he did.

“You are so delicious, my love~ I think you should have a taste~” He spoke before placing his lips on yours. He forced his tongue into your mouth and allowed you to taste yourself.

It was a different, yet pleasant taste.

“See how sweet you are? And all of that…just for me~”

As he said that, you lifted your knee up, brushing it right against his cock, making him hiss out in pleasure.

”Oh fuck…I’m so sensitive…” He said, looking down at his clothed crotch. He looked into your eyes, caressing your face with his hand.

”Let me fuck you, y/n. Please. I can’t wait any longer.” He said, making your heart flutter. You nodded, rubbing your legs together in anticipation.

WIthin a flash, Toru removed the remaining clothes on his body, letting his cock spring up to his stomach. You looked at it and saw how red his tip was, precum slowly leaking out. Poor baby. He was holding back for so long…it was only right for you to help him out now.

Before he could crawl back on top of you, you took the initiative and laid him down, sitting on his lap.

“Baby, what are-“

”Shhh. Let me make you feel good now.” You spoke softly to him, running your hands through his hair again,

You quickly aligned your pussy with his cock, slowly going down on him. It had been a while since you two had done this, so you had to get used to him all over again.

You hissed in pain, struggling to take him in, but you knew you could do it.

Toru saw the struggle and ran his fingers up your skin, moving his face towards your breasts. His tongue flicked across one of your nipples, causing your breath to hitch.

His hand ran up to your other breast, flicking his finger over and around your nipple.

It distracted you from the pain, allowing you to sink all the way onto him. He moaned onto your nipple as he felt how tight you were. Even after all of that, you were still squeezing hard on him…and he loved it.

You began to move up, quickly falling down on him, sending a wonderful sensation to pass through both of your bodies.

Toru, squeezed your breast harder, pinching your nipple.

“Ah~T-Toru…”You whimpered. He smirked as he continued to abuse your poor breasts, leaving bruises around and on them.

Your speed slowly increased as your pussy got used to his size. You could feel everything and it was pure bliss.

”Fuck, you feel so good, baby girl~ So fucking good~” He moaned, grabbing both of your breasts and placing both of your nipples in his mouth. He licked and sucked hard, causing your head to fall back.

You ran your hands to his neck, pushing him further into your chest.

He placed his hands on your hips, forcing you to move at a faster pace. He bucked his hips up as well, trying to get deeper inside of you.

After a few minutes of just plain fucking, you both felt your climaxes coming.

But Toru didn’t want to cum yet. He wanted to drag this out for as long as he could handle.

Just as he was about to cum, he unlatched his mouth from your sore nipples, forcing you off of his dick. He groaned into your neck, biting it to help suppress this climax.

”T-Toru…why did you stop?” You asked, completely breathless. He looked up at you and smirked, slamming you on the bed.

”I don’t wanna cum just yet, baby~ I want to make this moment last for a long time. And I’m willing to do anything to make that happen. Even if it means I have to stop for a moment.” He said, kissing your lips once again.

“Besides…I wanted to be the one on top of you now. While it was nice seeing you bounce up and down on my cock…I love seeing you squirm underneath me instead. I love to see you struggle taking me in. But most of all, I love seeing your beautiful blissed out face from all the pleasure I’m giving you~” He said, kissing up and down your neck.

He slowly pushed his dick back inside your walls, feeling you pulse around him once more. His tongue licked a long strand up your neck, tracing its way up your jawline and to the corners of your mouth.

He dipped his tongue in your mouth once more, allowing you two to mix your saliva once more.

”So just enjoy the moment baby…and try not to pass out, okay?”

————————

I hope you all enjoyed! If you’d like to request something, please feel free to ask!

#jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk x you #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu x reader #gojo x y/n #cw smut #tw smut #fem reader

[gglitch1dd]

Soon, my love

Alpha DILF Midoriya Izuku x Omega Wifey Reader

I wrote this while writing the next chapter of 'After the Rain' and... OHH I THINK I DID SOMETHING. You want strong wifey reader? I give you smart manipulative wifey reader.

Context: After your argument with Eijiro and Katsuki in a pack meeting, you go back home to remind your husband who is really in charge of Pack A.

You were quiet as you walked into your bedroom where your nest was. You put down the lantern before carefully putting Toshinori down to sit on in the middle of the nest. “I’m sorry you had to see that my sprout.” You spoke softly as you kissed his hairline.

Toshinori’s green eyebrows furrowed. “Mama, why… why was daddy mad?” He asked softly. “I’ve never seen him that mad before.”

You let out a soft breath as you stood up and went to go get his pyjamas. “Daddy was protecting us.”

“From?”

You took out his All Might onesie, that still curried the scent of you and your husband. You turned around to look at your son. The soft glow of the lantern on his face. You put on a serious face. “Uncle Eijiro and Kacchan. They said some really mean things about our family.” You explained to him softly as you crouched down, showing him you wanted him to remove his clothes.

He carefully followed suit, allowing you to help him into his onesie. “But… but why?”

You took a moment before letting out a sigh. You gave him a sad smile. “My precious little sprout.” You spoke softly, cupping his cheek. He leaned against your hand as you looked down at him. “A lot has changed since the rain stopped. A lot of things. Some of those things are certain people in the pack. Now you’ve got to remember, that your father and I do everything we can for you and for the other pups in this pack. We love you, and we want what’s best for you. That’s why we do all that we do. That’s why your father works so hard to protect us, even now.” You told him as you kissed his head. You zipped up his onesie, keeping him warm and safe. You frowned slightly. “Now because Uncle Eijiro is mad, mommy and daddy will be busy for the next couple of days but not with the pack. So we’ll need you to do exactly as you were doing before, be a good pup and listen to your aunties and uncles like we taught you. Do you understand me?”

He nodded his head, “Yes mommy.”

“And if someone says something that isn’t true about me or your father, what do you say?”

Toshinori hesitated before lifting up his chin. “My name is Midoriya Toshinori, son of Midoriya Izuku and Midoriya Y/N. I am a Midoriya and my parents love me, and that’s all I’ve got to know.”

You smiled proudly. You pushed back his curly green hair and chuckled. “You look just like your father.” You say making him beam. “So handsome.” You kissed his cheeks, moving your wrists to scent his little body. “Get some sleep, my sprout. I need to talk to your father, but we’ll come right up in a few minutes, okay?” You carefully tucked him into your nest, surrounding him in warm blankets with you and your husband’s scents. “I love you.”

Toshinori smiled. “I love you too.”

“Should I leave the lantern here for you?”

He nodded his head as he gripped the blanket. “Yes please.”

You smiled as you grabbed the other lantern, leaving your bedroom. You closed the door and headed downstairs. You looked down at the lantern. You’d need more oil burner for the lanterns because the substitutes you got in your garage wouldn’t be enough, which was half the reason why you kept it off and you just waited for your eyes to adjust automatically.

You moved down the steps and headed to the kitchen, your husband was just where you left him. His hands were on the island counter top in the kitchen, deep in thought. You walked over to him quietly. You kept your head up as you did so. You put down the lantern on the kitchen island as you walked over to him.

You moved to put your hand on his back going over his broad shoulders as you moved your other up his left arm. You let out a calming scent from your glands as you rubbed your cheek against his shoulder as you leaned against him. You moved to kiss the back of his neck before resting your head on his back. “Thank you for defending us, my love.” You spoke gently. “A strong Alpha is what Toshinori and I need right now.”

He let out a low scoff. “A strong Alpha and yet I backed down. I should have challenged him.” He let out lowly. You saw the frown on his face, fury in his eyes roaring like a thunderstorm, concealed by clothes. “He should have never spoken to you that way or allow Kacchan to do so.”

You shushed him sweetly, a purr coming out of you as you moved your hand to cup the side of his face before pulling him to look down at you. “Soon my love, you will have the chance to prove your strength as the reigning Prime of this pack.” You told him with a gentle smile on your face eagerness in your eyes. “But we need to be patient.” Izuku let out a grumble as he looked away from you.

You drew in a breath. You took his hand and pulled him away from the kitchen. You dragged him to the sitting room, pushing him down to sit on the couch. Izuku fell back with a surprised grunt. It had been a while since either one of you had sat down on your couches, considering how busy you both were nowadays. You moved to slide in behind him, pushing him to make space for you as you positioned yourself behind him.

You put your hands on his shoulders as you gently pressed down. You felt him tense before a soft groan escaped his lips. Your hands easily finding the spots in his body that were tense and stiff. You moved your thumbs to dig into his neck. You could feel him relax more. What you need right now was your Alpha thinking straight and that’s what you needed to do. Nudge him in the right direction. “Anata, Eijiro is threatened by you. Which is why he aims to separate us from everyone else. His hold on the pack weakens while yours strengthens. He has made a fool of himself by showing such insecurities in front of everyone.” You leaned down and kissed his head. “Which is why this is the perfect opportunity to show that he can’t do what we do.”

Izuku’s eyes were shut as he hummed at the massage you were giving him. His stress dissipating as you worked at his muscles. “How?” He asked.

“We give him what he wants.” You whisper into his ear. “If Katsuki and him want to have the pack, let them.” You moved your thumbs to his upper shoulder making him hiss at the pain but allowing you to massage at the knots in his muscles. “Let them try. While the pack realises why we are meant to lead, we can focus our strengths elsewhere. You were right when you said we need to talk to our neighbouring packs to make good relations. So that’s what we are going to do.”

Izuku paused, before turning to look at you. “Eijiro told us that we are excused from all duties in the pack, but… that doesn’t stop us from doing anything outside the pack.”

You smiled as you nodded your head. You put your hand to his jaw as you looked down at him. “And what better way to spread our influence to other packs and them acknowledging you, then with this. Izuku, my Alpha, my husband, my love.” You leaned down closer to him. “Don’t let them get to you. You were the one who stepped up when the world ended, not Eijiro. You were the one who got the pack together, not Eijiro. You were the one who the pack will yearn to take control again, not Eijiro.”

You dragged your knuckles over his skin, his eyes fluttering before staying stuck on you as you climbed into his lap, holding his face as you looked down at him. Izuku’s hands rested on your hips as he held you.

“The mascs in this pack look to you for guidance, the femmes look to you for strength and order, your son looks up to you like you hung the sun in the sky.” You reached down and brushed your lips against his. “And so will every other son that you will give me.” You whispered, making a low growl come from his lips as you felt his large hands tighten on your hips as he pulled you closer against him. Your heart was beating out of your chest but you had to stay focused, despite the lust that was emitting from your husband. “Don’t forget who you are. You are Midoriya Izuku, previous Number One ProHero of Japan and my husband. What more do you need?”

-Glitch1d

'Anata' - My dear/ honey in Japanese

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha x y/n #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #alpha izuku midoriya #alpha izuku midoriya x reader #alpha izuku x reader #alpha izuku #alpha deku #alpha deku x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #deku #mha midoriya

[dwaekkicidal]

Lessons

˚ʚfwb!Bang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Just a regular session of your best friend helping you learn Korean <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, nicknames; ‘honey and good girl,’ pvssy slaps, playful ass&thigh spanking, Chris calls himself Daddy once lol, rough sex, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: max and I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it was soo hot so I wanted to write something for it,,, but then I lost motivation for it for a while😭 anyways hope u enjoy <3

OH and thank you for 700 followers!! (im late so now so ~25 away from 800) :''') I have something planned for if/when I hit 1k hehe, Love u guys :>

MDNI!! smut below the cut

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

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After you had moved to Korea, you made it your sole goal to be completely fluent in Korean as soon as possible. You knew the basics and some vocabulary that got you through day-to-day encounters, but holding an actual conversation past introductions was rather difficult. So, this is how you found yourself in your current situation. Your best friend and fuck buddy of 2 years giving you weekly Korean lessons.

And this? This was a normal thing between you both. Sitting in his lap practicing while he sits there explaining things and kneading your thighs mindlessly. It was a normal occurrence! The only difference is you usually wore sweats or some sort of bottom that would cover your legs more. Today was one of the hotter days of the week, so you disregarded the extras and opted to only wear one of his shirts, nothing else.

His hands rubbed eagerly up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh like he does with soft pillows. Again, it was normal, but today he seemed to be restless with his movements. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath when he mindlessly squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh rather roughly while he translated a word you couldn’t figure out. “What is up with you today? You’re more touchy-feely than usual.”

“Sorry haha. Had a long day so I’m fidgety.. And you know I can’t resist you in nothing but my shirt.” You only hummed in response. You believed what he said, but you also knew that he wasn’t stupid and that the apology was not for his roughness as much as it was for how riled up he knew you were getting. He was never actually sorry about being physically affectionate with you, but you both knew how you tended to get very horny when his hands were on you so desperately.

“Mmmm.. Let me play with you a little while you read, okay?” You shake your head and push your study items away, pulling a laugh from him when you mumbled out ‘Fuck that, I need you.’

“None of that hahaha. Focus on the reading, honey.” He said, placing a kiss on your cheek before leaning down and biting into your neck. You groaned and leaned back into him, grinding against him in an attempt to make him fold in your favor. He let the first few grinds pass as he left hickeys along your neck, but the second your hands cupped him through his shorts he grabbed your hips to still your movements.

“Hey.“ The commanding tone in his voice caught you off guard and had your hands immediately stop in their tracks. “Stop that. You’re going to finish reading this text and then I’ll fuck you nice and good.”

“It’s not that serious, Chris. It's just a few paragraphs, we can do it after or just skip out this week.. Plus it’s your fault I’m this horny anyways.” The attitude in your voice makes him narrow his eyes, and then he grabs your chin and angles you to look back at him.

“Watch your tone. And I’m not gonna tell you again,” His hand grabbed both of yours and placed them on the table before moving to spread your legs open for him. Then, he finishes his sentence and enunciates each word with a harsh smack to your bare cunt. “Finish. Reading. The. Article.” The last one comes off harder than the others and it pulls a squeal from you, making your hands shoot down and wrap around his wrist while your legs slam shut against his hand. He grabs from your inner knee and hooks your legs over his, keeping you spread for him, and he pulls your book closer again.

You can feel the teasing smile on his face after he places a kiss on your cheek and then speaks against it. “You only have one article left, honey. The quicker you read it, the quicker I can bend you over and fuck you into the table~” You can’t help but whine and nod. Once you look down at the material again, Chris’ hands that were previously rubbing your inner thigh move back to rub along your wet folds. 

Then for what feels like the next hour, but was really just 20 long minutes, you slur out the words in front of you as best as you can. Chris’ left hand swapped between drawing circles into your clit and pinching your nipple, while his right hand shoved fingers against your walls. And every couple of minutes he would swap between kissing your neck to sucking hickeys into your collarbone. However, you weren’t allowed to cum and any time you mispronounced something or took too long to read a word, a stern slap was sent against your clit. As long as you continued to read well, he would pump 3 of his fingers in and out of you.

By the time you’re halfway through the material, your mind is foggy and you’re almost drooling on yourself from the constant edging. By the time you’re on the last sentence, your legs are shaking and you're slumped against him letting out quiet moans. Your neck and collarbone were so red from his incessant suckling, and you were desperate to get this over with. And then, when you finally finished, he stopped all movements to place a soft, congratulatory slap on your thigh and massaged your hips.

“Good girl… Now was that so hard?” With that, he hurriedly clears the desk before helping you stand and then standing himself. The chair you both rested on was kicked backwards and your whole world spun as he suddenly pinned you to the desk. You whined as his hand held a tight grip in your hair and pushed your face into the table. His free hand playfully squeezed and slapped at your ass a few times before you heard his shorts and boxers hit the floor.

You sighed out his name as he teased his tip through your folds, silently pleading with him to hurry it up. “Shhhhhh… ‘Atta girl. You did so well, baby. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”

He finally sunk in and nothing but low, whiny moans left your lips as you clenched around him. His free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it in appreciation while he slowly sunk every inch he had to offer. Once he bottomed out he gave you only a little bit of time before his thrusts started, albeit slowly at first but quickly ramping up due to his own impatience. It doesn’t take long for him to change to an unforgiving and rougher pace, his hand still holding your head against the table.

“Fff-fuck.. Christopherrr-”

“Yeah yeah, baby. Daddy’s got you. ‘M nice and deep, just how you like it right?” You missed the way he smirked when you let out a desperate ‘Uh-huh’ in response, but you could feel the way it encouraged him when his hips slammed against yours with more eagerness. He keeps this pace up for a while until he feels you tighten around him, and then he changes to slow, deep thrusts that make your eyes roll into your skull. 

The hand in your hair slides on top of yours on the desk, intertwining your fingers, and he leans forward to place his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Mmmm keep squeezing me, Honey. Fffuck, juuust like that..”

When you’re tipping over the edge, he places a kiss on your sweaty skin and moans against it. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up just how you like it, okay?” You want to nod, but everything hits you at once so you can only cry out against your desk.

As your orgasm starts to fade into overstimulation, he fixes his posture and focuses on his hip movements. A squeaky moan falls from your lips as he suddenly bottoms out and the hold on your hip tightens. He threw his head back and bit his bottom lip as he came, attempting to muffle his whiney moans. He rides out his orgasm by sometimes pulling out and snapping his hips harshly against yours.

“Fuck… If that’s how we end the studying session from now on, I might consider this payment.” He jokes.

You let out a breathy laugh and he starts to pull out slowly, pushing you into the table as he did so. You take the moment to catch your breath when you realize he’s gone quiet and there’s the light feeling of breath on your thighs. Your head snaps back and you realize he was kneeling in order to watch his cum slide down your folds.

“Hey!” you whine and place a hand on his forehead, pushing his face away only for him to resist, so you use your feet to push him harder. He laughs at your embarrassment and stands up, pulling you to sit up as well and lifting the shirt off of you. He uses it to wipe you down before throwing it into your hamper and grabbing one of his spare shirts from your dresser. He steals a kiss before covering you in the shirt, then drags you to the living room to watch a tv show together.

You two spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching tv and relaxing in each other’s warmth. It’s no surprise when soft snores are heard and you look down to see his sleeping face squished into your chest. You huff out a laugh before you snuggle him closer. Then, you’re eyes get heavy until they inevitably close and you fall asleep too.

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@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

#sian’s writing #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan x reader smut #bang chan imagines #chan smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut #chan imagines

[enhaheeseung]

SLEEP 🕒 - L. Heeseung

🕒Pairing: Heeseung X fem reader!

🕒Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, cursing.

🕒Synopsis: it’s late, and you can’t sleep, but luckily, your best friend knows just the trick to help you out.

🕒Wc: 1,5k (Drabble)

-

Sighing to yourself, you set your phone down on the lamp stand after you noticed it was literally three in the morning.

You and your best friend had been watching movies talking and hanging out since ten and you hadn’t even noticed the time till now.

“You sleepy?” He turned to you just in time to catch you rubbing your strained eyes.

“Yes, it’s like three am, hee,” you groggily reply, turning on your left side facing away from him.

“Oh shit, you’re right. I’m sorry,” he chuckled. You could tell he was just as tired by how deep his voice had gotten.

“It's alright.” He set his phone aside as well and leaned up against the headboard.

“I guess I better get going.” On cue, he lets out a yawn.

“Are you crazy? It’s so late out you might as well just spend the night” you mumble out.

He rubbed his chin in thought; he was really tired, and driving probably wasn’t the best idea right now. “I didn’t bring anything for a sleepover.”

“Just wear whatever,” you respond, on the verge of passing out.

You feel a dip in the bed and hear him shuffling around. He takes off his pants and his flannel before he slips under the covers with you.

For most, it’d probably seem weird, a guy and a girl sleeping in the same bed, but the number of times you both knocked out together while studying during your high school and college days made this one of the most normal things between you two. “Goodnight, y/n. I might be gone before you wake up.”

“Just make sure to lock the door in the morning night, hee,” you whispered, turning off your lamp while he did the same after you.

You readjusted to get comfortable and pressed your cheek against your pillow, waiting for sleep to come over you.

Ten minutes passed, and sleep never came. You were tired, but for some reason, you just couldn’t fall asleep.

“Ugh,” you groaned and quickly cupped your mouth so you wouldn’t wake heeseung up with the racket.

Little did you know he was still wide awake.

“Y/n?” He asks, followed by a beat of silence. “You’re still up too?” He says with a hint of amusement in his tone. At least he wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.

“Yes,” you laid flat on your back, copying his resting position. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m tired, but I just can’t seem to sleep,” you respond in the pitch-black bedroom.

“Same,” he sighs, folding his arms over his chest.

You both lay there in silence for a few minutes until he says something that completely catches you off guard.

“I read that having an orgasm can help you fall asleep,” he says casually.

You giggle and push his shoulder, or at least you think it was his shoulder. It was so dark you really couldn’t see. “And where did you read that?”

“The internet, of course, says it has something to do with the release of oxytocin or some shit” he lets out an airy laugh putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting,” you hum.

“It is, works like a charm for me,” he says through a yawn.

“TMI”

“Oh please, we’ve talked about so much shit that this is PG,” he scoffs.

“Yeah, but not you touching yourself.” You cringe as the words leave your mouth.

“I didn’t say anything like that. All I said was it works,” he shrugs even though you can’t see him.

“Whatever,” you say, too tired to argue with him.

It’s silent again, and the idea he mentioned sounds a lot more appealing than laying here all night without getting any sleep.

But you can’t necessarily try out this little theory of his with him in your room, so that idea was out the window.

“You still up?” He checks on you a minute later, and you hum in response. “I mean, I could give you one if you want,” he holds in his laugh, knowing that you’re about to chastise him.

“Lee heeseung, stop it this instant,” you tell him sternly.

“Okay, okay, just thought I’d ask. I’m your bestie, and besties look out for each other, right?” He continues to push your little buttons.

“Yeah, by giving a shoulder to cry on, not giving each other orgasms,” you huff out a breath.

A thought popped into your head: you weren’t getting any sleep anytime soon, and since he wanted to mess with you, two could play that game. “I mean, you could,” the words leave your mouth in a nonchalant manner.

He gasped, not expecting you to match his humor. Most times, you didn’t when it came to something sexual. “Knock it off. It’s weird when you joke about it,” he laughs.

“Who said I’m joking?” You taunt.

“Cause the y/n I know would never,” he says confidently, thinking he knows you like the back of his hand, and normally he does, but just not when you’re sleep-deprived.

“What about the y/n who’s in desperate need of sleep and will do anything just to catch a few hours before work in the morning?”

His ears are perked up now, the soft, sultry tone of your voice alerting him instantly. “You’re really not joking, are you?”

“Do I sound like I’m joking?” You shift closer to him, and he feels your body heat right away, making his heart beat faster in his chest.

“I-I y/n, if you’re joking, just tell me.” his voice shakes a little, the slightest hint of a whimper traveling close behind his words.

Calling it quits with talking, you find his hand in the dark and grip his wrist, guiding him right between your legs. “Hee, I’d never joke about this,” you gasped as his warm hand cups over your mound.

“Fuck” he whispers and props himself on his side, slowly gliding his hand between your legs. “You really are serious, huh?” His voice sounds even huskier than it did before as he confidently presses your clit over your sleep shorts.

“Yes, hee,” you whine, desperation dripping from your voice as you clench your thighs around his hand, keeping it firmly nestled against you.

“Shit, okay, turn over for me” You get back in your original position, your back now pressed against his chest, his crotch a few inches away from your backside. “Now close your eyes.” his hot breath tickles your ear.

You do as he says, too tired to even think twice about what you’re getting ready to engage in with your best friend.

His two middle fingers rub circles on your clit, working you up quicker than you could have ever imagined. You’re already leaking a bit of precum.

“Mmm,” you moan softly. His fingers felt so good, especially when he slipped them further down, teasing your entrance while his palm rubbed your clit.

Your hand caressed the one that was between your legs, tracing the veins along the back of his hand. “Does that feel good?” He swallowed thickly, his lower body pressing against you unintentionally.

“Yes, hee, so good” he humps your backside, his swollen cock being stimulated by the softness of your plush bottom.

“Yeah, so good,” he whispers in your ear. You feel so good you don’t even notice the way he ruts against you, the movement of his hips forcing your waist to roll against his palm more, bringing you even more satisfaction.

“I’m so close, hee, I’m gonna cum” you cry out, body shuddering as the warmth and pleasure builds in your lower region.

“Shhh, I know, I know,” he breathes out heavily, placing a soft kiss on your cheek and a few more rolls of his hips. You’re both coming undone together, panting exhaustedly.

He rubs you through it, whispering encouraging words in your ear like. “Yeah, feels so good, doesn’t it?” “Let it all out,” “Keep cumming” “That’s it.”

The pleasure goes on for so long that another orgasm follows after giving you the most intense pleasure you’ve ever experienced. “Hee,” you whimper his name, your body trembling against his as you shudder in the aftermath of cumming back to back.

He nuzzles against you, cuddling you and helping you ground yourself until you catch your breath.

He’s still struggling to calm himself with how hard he just came. He hasn’t cum that fast and that much in a while. “Was that good?” He asked timidly into your hair, releasing a deep breath.

“Mmm,” you moan in response, your eyelids finally feeling so heavy that you can barely open them.

But you couldn’t forget about heeseung, so you flipped over on your side, your forehead touching his. “What about you?” You slowly reach into his boxers, gripping the base of his length, feeling a good amount of wetness covering his shaft.

“Ahh, s-sensitive,” he moans shakily.

You retract your hand right away. “Did you-“ he cuts you off, nodding against your forehead, and you slowly pull your hand out of his underwear.

“I’m good,” he assures you. “Let’s sleep now yeah? We’ll clean up in the morning” his words sound slurred and you can barely even understand what he’s saying cause you’re so tired.

Apparently, whatever he read about orgasms was true cause you’ve never fallen asleep faster.

-

Thanks for reading likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated sorry for any typos or errors I hope you all have a good day/night♥️

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