#I know they have a hard time as it is to get everything working and organizing etc... So i dont want to be an extra problem

[hoshifighting]

Hello honeeey.

Can i request something? That's being going in my mind and i thought you be perfect for this... i wanted to ask for a first time with Seungcheol... like no the first time ever but the first time with him.

Like new relationship, a lot of previous teasing but he has being waiting for you to make the first step and stuff.

Pleaseeeee, i love your work, kisseeees💗

first time having sex with seungcheol in a new relationship

WARNINGS: smut, new established relationship, fingering, penetrative sex, hair pull

a/n: hiii my dear!! thank you for the request, I hope you like it <333 sorr ab how late is this going, but I can use this excuse for a chirstmas gift....? 🥺 love youuu!!!

he knows he’s about to ruin you but doesn’t feel the need to announce it.

you’ve both been circling around this moment for weeks—every touch lingering longer than it should, every kiss dipping into field that leaves you squirming. now you’re here, and he’s leaning over you with that smug, lopsided grin, looking like he’s been waiting for this exact second his entire life.

“been thinkin’ about this,” he mutters, lips brushing your jaw, his hands already sliding under your shirt. and yeaaaah, maybe you’ve been thinking about it too, but you’re not about to stroke his ego like that.

his mouth is warm, soft, leaving a trail down your neck that makes your toes curl. but it’s his hands... that really mess with your head. they’re big and rough, and its so good! its like he plays a 3 hour long documentary about womens anatomy in his head, to make it all perfect. and you’re not even sure if it’s intentional at first, the way his thumb brushes your ribs before dragging along your waistline is making you loose your cool.

“you good?”

“mhmm..”

he’s pulling your clothes off slow, his eyes flick up to yours when he hooks his fingers into your waistband, waiting for the nod before tugging it all down.

then, he pauses—just for a second, but it’s enough to notice. like he’s recalibrating, trying to balance his usual cocky self with something more reserved. you swear there’s a flicker of nervousness there, but it’s gone before you can really clock it.

and then his mouth is on your thigh, pressing soft kisses that turn into teasing bites. “you’re so fucking pretty,” he says, his voice wrecked, like he’s the one losing his serenity.

when he slides two fingers in, he tries to be soft to stretch you properly for his cock, without making it burn, curling in a way that makes you moan loud for the first time. “like that?” he asks, smirking when you moan in response. he’s watching everything, adjusting the angle, the pace, until you’re arching off the bed.

“so sensitive...” like he’s proud of the way you’re squirming under him.

but seungcheol’s not about to let you get too comfortable. just when you’re about to cum, he pulls his fingers out, grinning at the whine you let out. “don’t worry, baby,” he says, kissing the inside of your knee, “i’ve got you.”

and when he finally presses into you, he doesnt know if he should be sexy and shameless, or be more reserved in case he cums on the first slide. so he starts slow, letting you adjust before picking up the pace.

you swear he’s holding back at first, keeping it steady even when you’re begging for more. but then you pull him down by the hair, whispering something filthy in his ear—things that he was CRAVING for you to say, that’s all it takes for him to snap.

“fuck,” he growls, his grip tightening as his thrusts get rougher, deeper. but just when you think he’s going to completely wreck you, he slows down again, his hand sliding up to tangle in your hair. he pulls—just enough to tilt your head back—and kisses you hard, like he’s staking a claim.

“thought about this for so long,” he says, his voice rough, his movements still slow. “you don’t even know.”

you didn’t know he could be like this—rough and tender, cocky and careful, all at once. but now you’re here, and he’s everywhere, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to think about anything else. he’s determined, you can tell. determined to make you remember every single moment, every touch, every kiss, every thrust. and when you finally cum, he’s right there with you, holding you until you frown, because you two are definitely sweating.

[sxcretricciardo]

I’m back… pt.2

social media au

part 1 here

•

astonmartinf1 another successful weekend for our team! P1 for Alonso and P2 for Y/L/N 💪🏻

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username1 the amount of points they’re getting this season I’m shook

username2 the best decision was to get these two driving together

yourusername let’s partyyyyy

-> fernandoalo_oficial please yes

-> georgerussel63 am I invited?

-> yourusername of course! You’re part of our podium lol p3 great drive tho 😌

-> landonorris is p4 invited?

-> carlossainz55 meet you at the club 🥳

•

f1gossip a follower just sent us these photos of some of the f1 drivers partying and having fun at a club after the Aston Martin podium today! It is rumored that McLaren driver Lando Norris was also present and that there was a heated argument between him and Y/N. Waiting for more details 👀

•

yourusername me and my besties 👯‍♀️

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georgerussel63 I’m hungover

-> yourusername you need to keep up mate 💅

carlossainz55 party animals

username1 are Y/N and George looking at Lando and gossiping???

liked by yourusername

-> username2 they for sure were 🙂‍↔️

username3 I wanna know all the details about the argument 😒

fernandoalo_oficial finally someone that can keep the party alive 😴

•

real life

The club was alive with energy, the sound of music and chatter filling the space. The podium celebration was still fresh in your mind, the high of the race, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. After a long, hard-fought race, you had finally made it to the top three, standing on the podium with a huge smile on your face. You had earned it. You had worked so hard for it. Fernando Alonso had finished alongside you, and both of you were now celebrating the victory with close friends and teammates.

As you stood surrounded by Fernando, Carlos Sainz, and George Russell, the four of you were laughing, sharing stories of the race, and enjoying the excitement of the moment. Fernando had his arm draped around your shoulders, a proud smile on his face, his voice full of excitement as he spoke animatedly about the race. Carlos was teasing you both about how you were going to beat him next time, and George was raising a glass to your hard-earned success. Everything felt perfect — until he walked in.

Lando Norris.

The moment your eyes met his, your stomach twisted into a knot. There he was, striding confidently into the club, a slight smile on his face, as if nothing had ever happened. He was still the same Lando you remembered: the boy you once loved, the boy who had shattered your heart.

You immediately tensed, your grip on your drink tightening. Fernando noticed the shift in your demeanor, his brow furrowing in confusion before he glanced over his shoulder to see what you were looking at. His expression immediately hardened, and Carlos and George followed his gaze.

Lando, oblivious to the sudden shift in the atmosphere, walked up to the bar with a casual air, nodding at a few people in the crowd. It wasn’t until he caught sight of you that his smile faltered, though it didn’t disappear entirely.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Lando said, his voice light, as though nothing had ever happened between you two.

You couldn’t help but scoff, your anger rising quickly. Fernando, sensing the tension, took a step back, giving you space, though he kept his eyes on Lando with a wary look. Carlos and George, too, gave the two of you some room, but they didn’t hide their discomfort.

Lando leaned against the bar casually, his eyes flicking over to Fernando. “Looks like it’s been a good day for both of you,” he said, motioning to the celebration around you. “Podium, huh? Congrats.”

You could feel the heat of frustration welling up inside of you, all the old feelings coming back to the surface. How dare he waltz in here like everything was fine, like he hadn’t betrayed you? Like he hadn’t destroyed everything you once believed in.

“Don’t act like you care,” you said coldly, your voice sharp as a knife. “You have a funny way of congratulating someone, Lando.”

Lando blinked, clearly surprised by your hostility. His smile faltered, and he glanced at Fernando and the others, as if searching for something to make this moment less awkward. But you weren’t giving him that luxury.

“Are you serious?” Lando’s voice hardened, his earlier casualness replaced with something darker. “I come in here to show some support, and you act like I just killed your puppy? It’s been years.”

You could feel the anger building up inside you, the emotions from all those years ago surging to the surface. “You don’t get to act like nothing happened,” you shot back, voice tight with fury. “You don’t get to pretend we’re fine. You cheated on me. You humiliated me in front of everyone. And when I got hurt, when I was out for a year, you didn’t even care. You didn’t even apologize.”

Lando’s eyes widened at the intensity of your words, but he quickly recovered, a defensive look crossing his face. “That was a long time ago. You think I don’t regret it? You think I don’t feel like an asshole for how things ended?”

“Oh, so now you regret it?” You laughed bitterly, the sound cutting through the noise of the club. “You should have thought about that before you—”

“Before I what?!” Lando snapped, stepping closer to you now, his voice low and fierce. “Before I made a mistake? You think I don’t know how badly I messed up? But you’ve been holding this over my head for years, and it’s not even about that anymore, is it? It’s about holding onto your grudge.”

You didn’t back down. “I’m not holding a grudge. I’m holding onto the truth. You left me broken, and for what? Because you couldn’t stay faithful? Because you wanted to feel good about yourself while I was dealing with the aftermath of your mistakes?”

Fernando stepped in, placing a hand on Lando’s shoulder, his expression stern, but calm. “This isn’t the place for this,” he said quietly, his voice laced with authority. “We’re here to celebrate a win, not dredge up old wounds.”

Lando looked at Fernando, clearly irritated by his intervention, but he didn’t argue. His eyes moved back to you, and there was a flicker of regret in them. But you didn’t care about the flicker. You cared about the damage he had done.

“You should leave,” you said, your voice colder now. “This is a celebration, not a pity party for you.”

Lando’s jaw tightened. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to lash out again, but instead, he took a deep breath. His eyes briefly met yours — there was a faint trace of apology, but it was clouded by his own pride.

“You’re still angry,” he said quietly, as if finally understanding. “I get it. But I’m not going anywhere.”

“You should,” you shot back, your eyes blazing. “Go anywhere but here.”

The tension between you two hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Fernando gave Lando one final look, his expression hardening before he stepped away from the group, signaling the others to follow him.

Carlos leaned in toward you and whispered, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, though the emotion was raw in your chest, and it would take a lot more than a few words to heal that wound. But for now, you were surrounded by the people who truly mattered — the ones who had been there for you when Lando had abandoned you.

The music played on, and for a moment, the weight of the past started to lift as you turned your attention back to your celebration. But Lando’s presence, even from across the room, lingered.

•

yourusername they want what u had

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oscarpiastri give me my hoodie back

-> yourusername next time don’t leave it unattended 🤡

fernandoalo_oficial my sunglasses 😒

-> yourusername they look better on me anyway 🥵

username1 the caption SHES ON FIRE

username2 lando really lost a hottie

liked by yourusername

•

part 3 coming soon

tags: @angstynasty @elieanana

[willaminareads]

too busy

PARING: exhusband!drew x reader

SUMMARY: you and drew had been divorced for a little under a year now. while drew had your two kids this weekend, zach unfortunately let it slip, that mommy had a new "friend". drew was anything but thrilled.

WORD COUNT: 667 words

WARNINGS: possesive drew, angst, fluff, cursing, kids.

WILLA SPEAKS: hey! this is my first fic, on this blog, and i'm so excited!! please note that english is not my first language, so if any mistakes occur, i'm so sorry! enjoy<3

you stand outside his door, waiting for him to open it. you were a little nervous. you didn't exactly have a reason to be, but you were.

"y/n," drew says as he opens the door. "hi, baby, come in. the kids are in their playroom." he ushers you inside, hoping you didn't notice he let the nickname slip. old habits die hard.

you smile softly at the nickname but quickly stop once you notice. this is your ex. hell, not even just your ex—your ex-husband.

you follow him inside his new house. you liked it, though it did remind you of the house the two of you once shared.

"can i get you anything?" drew breaks the silence.

"you have tea?" you ask softly.

"the kettle is already on, sweetheart," he responds in the same soft tone. god, he knows me so well, you thought.

he finds a cup for you and starts preparing the tea. silence falls between you. it wasn't awkward per se, but not exactly pleasant either.

drew is the first to break the silence, still keeping all his attention on your tea. "zach says you've got a new friend." his tone is sharp, not at all soft like the one you'd heard just a couple of minutes ago.

a quiet "oh," was all you could muster up. you didn't know what to say. i mean, what could you say?

he turns his attention to you, handing you the cup of tea. "yeah, that was my reaction as well," he says bitterly.

you sigh. "come on, drew, don't do this." guilt written all over your face.

he lets out a dry laugh. "i didn't do shit, y/n."

"i'm allowed to move on, drew," you say softly, catching his gaze.

"the fuck you are," he sneers, placing his hands on the countertop. "i can't, so you don't get to either." his statement hangs in the air as you stare at each other.

you scoff. "no, you don't get to do this, drew. you fucked up. you didn't have time for us," you say, knowing how to hit him where it hurts.

"don't say that." he looks down, unable to meet your eyes.

"why not, drew? it's true," you state. "you were too busy with your big dreams, and, i mean, it worked out for you," you say, waving your arms slightly. "you have everything a man could want," you taunt.

"you know that's not true," he glares at you.

you shrug. "you can't have your cake and eat it too."

he scoffs at your comment. "right, okay. you're getting on my nerves, y/n," he bites. "you know how much i wanted to make this work. you know how much i love you—"

you cut him off. "loved."

"no, fuck that, and fuck you for saying it," he raises his voice at you. he doesn't do that often. "i'm sorry..." he takes a deep breath. "you know that i still love you. i just want another chance, y/n. let me show you that we can make this work," he says softly, reaching for your hand.

you shake your head at him. "we can't put the kids through another divorce, drew," you say softly.

"we won't," he says. "come on, y/n. we can make this work."

you sigh. "drew..."

"please," he says, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek.

"there's no new guy." drew stares at you, a little confused, waiting for you to continue. "that friend zach says he saw me with?" drew nods along. "it was chase."

"chase? as in my co-star chase?" drew asks, utterly confused.

"yeah... he and maddie came by to help me build a dresser." you bite your lip, your nerves taking over your body.

"oh," he falls silent.

"drew?" you ask.

"so, no new guy?" he asks with a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

"no new guy." you confirm.

"so... do you wanna marry me again..?" he asks.

"drew!" you exclaim with laughter as you smack his arm.

[jungwnies]

wreckage - charles leclerc

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : after a heated argument with charles, you watch in horror as his car crashes during a race

୨ৎ : genre : angst ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1318

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say life can change in the blink of an eye. One second, everything feels steady, solid, like the ground beneath your feet couldn’t possibly give way. And then it does. Maybe that’s the irony of it all—you never see it coming. Not really. You think you’re prepared, think you’ve braced yourself, but you’re never quite ready for the moment it all falls apart.

You fought this morning. Not just a little spat about something trivial—no, this was one of those fights that echoed louder than it should have. The kind that lingered, thick in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even hours later.

It wasn’t about anything catastrophic, either, but somehow, with Charles, the small things had a way of snowballing. His schedule. Your schedule. The time you didn’t have together. The things he didn’t say and the things you did.

“I’m trying, okay? You think it’s easy for me?” he’d snapped, his accent sharpening the edges of his words. “You know what this life is like.”

“Yeah, Charles, I do. But I also know you don’t get to use it as an excuse every single time something gets hard. I’m here, too, and I’m trying to make this work just as much as you are.”

His jaw had tightened, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

You’d felt the sting of those words, like a slap across the face. But you weren’t one to back down, not even when the weight of his frustration pressed heavy on your chest.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not when I’m the one waiting, worrying, wondering if this is ever going to feel… stable. Do you know how hard it is to love someone who’s never really here?”

The silence that followed was deafening, his features a mix of hurt and anger, like he didn’t know which to lean into more. And then he’d said it.

“Maybe it’s hard because you don’t trust me enough to believe that I’m doing my best.”

You hadn’t answered, and maybe that was the problem. The fight ended there, not because either of you wanted it to but because there was no time to fix it. Not when he had a race to prepare for, and you had to pretend like none of this was tearing you apart from the inside out.

When you arrived at the paddock, it felt impossible to mask the weight of the argument. You greeted a few people with forced smiles, but you could see some of them watching you a little too closely. It didn’t help that Charles seemed just as tense, his jaw set and his usual ease nowhere to be found.

Carlos was the first to pull you aside, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “¿Qué pasa, eh? You look like someone stole your churros, and Charles… well, he looks worse. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Amiga, por favor. I know you, and I know him. Whatever this is, it’s not nothing.”

You sighed, glancing over your shoulder where Charles was talking to his engineers. “We just… had a fight this morning. It’s not a big deal.”

Carlos gave you a skeptical look. “Not a big deal? You’re both walking around like someone cancelled Christmas. If you’re not okay, neither is he. You should talk to him before the race.”

You hesitated, the memory of this morning’s argument still fresh in your mind. “I don’t want to distract him. He needs to focus.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a small smile. “Tch. If you think he’s focusing now, you’re wrong. You being upset is a bigger distraction than anything else. Go.”

Reluctantly, you nodded and made your way toward Charles. He was still in deep conversation with one of his engineers, but when he saw you approaching, his expression softened—just slightly.

“Hey,” you said quietly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lower than usual. There was a pause, the tension between you lingering like a storm cloud.

“Good luck out there,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I mean it. Be safe.”

Charles studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours. Then he nodded. “And… I’m sorry. For earlier.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, someone called for him, signaling it was time to get ready. He gave you one last look, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with words unsaid.

The race began, and for a while, the roar of engines and the blur of cars distracted you. Charles was in good form, holding his position, making clean overtakes. You found yourself exhaling with relief every time his car flashed across the screen.

But then it happened.

It was almost too fast to comprehend. One moment, Charles was rounding a corner, perfectly in control. The next, there was smoke, debris, and the sickening crunch of metal against metal.

Your heart stopped.

The commentators’ voices rose in panic, their words a jumbled mess that barely registered in your mind. “Oh no, that’s Leclerc… that’s a big one.”

Everything else faded—the noise of the crowd, the hum of your thoughts—until all that remained was the image of his car, mangled and still.

“Red flag,” one of them said, and that’s when it hit you. They’d stopped the race. It was bad.

Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

The minutes crawled by like hours, every second another layer of dread settling in your chest. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, desperate for any sign, any update, anything to tell you he was okay.

When they finally cut to the scene, you saw the medics surrounding his car, moving quickly but carefully.

“He’s conscious,” one of the commentators said, and you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, but it wasn’t enough. Not until you saw him. Not until you heard him.

You thought back to the fight, to the last thing he said to you, and it made you sick to your stomach. This couldn’t be the last memory you had of him, the last words you exchanged. It couldn’t.

You were already reaching for your phone, dialing his team, someone, anyone who could give you more than the vague reassurance of the broadcast.

“Please,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Please let him be okay.”

It’s strange, how quickly everything can unravel. You think you’ve got it all figured out, that the argument was just another bump in the road. But in the back of your mind, there’s always that voice whispering, telling you that things might never be the same.

And now, with every second that ticks by, your thoughts spiral, faster and faster, until you can’t breathe. What if this is it? What if those were the last words you ever said to him?

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but all you can see is that image of his car, broken and still. Your pulse races. You told him you loved him today, but did he really hear you? Was he ever truly certain, or was that last moment of tension, the words left unsaid, enough to make him doubt everything?

You hate this. You hate the fear gnawing at you. You hate that you're sitting here, helpless, as he’s out there fighting for his life. That feeling of powerlessness—it’s unbearable.

Please, you think again, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. Please, don’t let this be the end.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[agave]

GOTTA add some headcanons to this

laios spends loads of his playtime just creeping along after the big monsters, taking notes like he's studying a real wild animal. he has a dossier on each one and he's well known in the subreddit for being present at the scene every time someone has a question because the wiki is unclear about something

SOME of his dossier is carefully researched headcanon (speculative skeletal structure, mating habits, etc) but he keeps that in a separate notebook

he also has a third notebook that combines canon and headcanon so he can better imagine it being a real organism. everything is hand-copied

loves those youtube videos like "100 things you DIDN'T know about monster hunter" or "I went into the files to deconstruct how rathalos's AI works in excruciating detail, here's EVERY decision tree!" these don't impact his immersion at all

marcille had a phase where she got SO stressed out about having a PERFECTLY manicured, resetted for, time-traveled, villager-cycled town (this is especially a nightmare on the 3DS version because you have JUST enough power over your town layout to make it frustrating) that even playing became overwhelming and she had to stop. but then she also felt bad for not playing, which compounded the stress of going back to playing

eventually falin got the game so she could play with marcille and marcille bought an entire new switch so she could play without going back to her old town (and without deleting all that hard work!)

the old save file is still sitting there and on the new one marcille has vowed to herself that she won't use any manips or anything (it's still bugging her though. but she does genuinely enjoy playing)

marcille also plays fire emblem. both for the strategy and for the visual novel elements. she talks about it as a high level strategy game to anyone who asks. if a character dies she resets

chilchuck has loads of save files and they're ALL stealth archer. he does pretty much the same thing on each one but he has fun every time like it's a new experience

he LOVES survival mode. this guy will fish in skyrim for an hour. sometimes he sets up with a case of beer like he's fishing irl and has his character down an ale every so often as "bonding". if anyone teases him for this he'll kill them but he genuinely finds it relaxing. video game fishing is basically a gacha

don't get him wrong though, most of his time is spent carefully preparing materials, going into a dungeon, checking every corner, and then stealth assassinating the boss from across the room and rendering the whole thing totally pointless. he does not have any sense of clarity about this and just loves the thrill of the chase

he's tried modding but never really found any he liked enough to stick with. his favorite mod was the museum one but he thought it was too much fanfare to bother with. he'd rather it was just a plain house with a million racks and zero quests or dialogue. the real reason he's not into modding is he's just set in his ways (plus if he got used to a mod on PC how would he play switch edition? checkmate. no mods)

slightly interested in TES6 but "will it have the community skyrim has built over the years?" (he doesn't interact with the community that much)

other than cooking mama, senshi really likes wii sports and especially wii bowling and tennis. he's not that interested in the real sports but he'd try them to see how they compared to his game

has watched a million of those "we cooked every dish in cooking mama using exact instructions from the game!" videos and has a ranking of them in his head. his major criteria are how faithful it is to the actual dish, how faithful it is to the game, and how much it infuriates him to watch as a cook ("we can't add salt because mama didn't! :)")

he does EXCLUSIVELY play the wii because he finds the motion controls the most intuitive. he'll push the buttons but his brain just doesn't compute if it's ONLY buttons

has been shown that the switch also has motion controls, but he sees those kids mainly using it as a controller with buttons, you can't fool him, you know he doesn't get that kind of stuff!!

eventually someone sets him up with a capture card and a streaming setup and he's top 10 in the accidental asmr category within a year

Stinky group of gamerz

It came to me in my fever dreams

tag yoself, I’m Chilskyrim

[ripplestitchskein]

What I loved most about Sinsmas is how well it’s setting up what will be the probable trajectory of Season 3 while resolving the conflicts of Season 2.

Octavia and Blitz are set on a similar path, realizing that Stolas needs more than they can give him, but not because they aren’t enough but because he has a mental illness. This conflict is setup explicitly to tie in with Barbie, Blitz will realize that whatever happened probably wasn’t as much his fault as he thinks, she just needed more than he could give alone. So I stand by the speculation that resolving Stolas and Blitz next season is going to be directly paralleled by Blitz and Barbie but will at the same time bring Octavia and Blitz into an accord.

Stolas will be getting several more reality checks and will spiral pretty hard, but I am holding on to faith that we will get a happy medium between getting proper treatment and reconciling his relationship with Blitz. I think Sinsmas did a great job setting up him as not realizing his continued unhappiness, even though he got everything he wanted with Blitz, is not a reflection on their relationship being ill suited but because he does have a mental illness that he is not treating properly or sharing with those around him. Blitz sidestepping the horse backstory while Stolas pulls back on asking him for help getting his meds was a perfect and succinct way to show this upcoming conflict.

Just excellent visuals with that all around. Blitz being the one to snuggle and try to be close to him while Stolas is the one closed off and refusing to relent was really solid. I would bet on this being the opening imagery of S3, some rehashing of Blitz trying but Stolas remaining closed off and that leading to a split that is slowly repaired over the course of the season, ending with them finally embracing each other.

The subtle cues from the imps of hell during the domesticity montage also great. Just this hatred Hell has for Stolas and how they will have to fight to be together. Like this was echoed in the fight with Andy as well, Stolas succumbing to being swallowed alive by a monster and Blitz going after him. Depression metaphor wow. The fight itself could be echoed in S3 too but this time with them working together.

And then everything with Millie, like her still not being on the same page when it comes to a family with kids while Moxxie and Blitz are opposed. Her reassuring Moxxie that her not wanting this doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him, and how that will play through S3.

Seeing Loona taking more responsibilities and stepping in for her father, seeing her with friends excited about board games. Too cute. I don’t know where she’ll go in S3 but I love her development so far and how they’ve taken a quieter approach to her parallels with Octavia and Stolitz.

Just a really great season finale.

[jadeshifting]

— DON’T FEEL GUILTY FOR YOUR MAIN CHARACTER SYNDROME

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on “the fact that i scripted this is so embarrassing” “ew you’re y/n in your DR” “scripting for attention” “why do you have to be the center of attention in your DR” in all it’s glory, why it’s completely normal, and why you should STOP being embarrassed about it

FEELING UNIMPORTANT IN YOUR CURRENT REALITY

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current reality? sometimes it’s just not it. maybe you’re feeling like an NPC in your own life—just another face in the crowd. it sucks, but guess what? that’s the old script. shifting? it’s your big rewrite. becoming aware of an infinite amount of realities where you’re not just noticed—you’re impossible to ignore

in this reality, people might miss the little things—your killer sense of humor, your kind heart, or how you’re way smarter than people give you credit for. but in your desired reality? everyone’s clocking it. your talents, your quirks, your whole vibe—it’s finally getting the standing ovation it deserves

in your desired reality, your name stays on people’s lips. you’re the plot twist everyone’s been waiting for. no more feeling like an afterthought; you’re finally front and center, with the spotlight right where it belongs—on you. you’re no longer the underrated gem. people are lining up to appreciate everything about you, from your sharp mind to the way you light up a room. it’s not about changing who you are—it’s about stepping into a reality that actually sees you for the star you’ve always been

in a world that works so hard to devalue especially women, and brush past even the qualities you’ve worked the hardest to have, don’t let anyone make you feel bad for using the control you have to finally get the recognition, admiration, and attention you deserve

EMBODYING THE CINEMATIC ENERGY WE’VE ALWAYS IDOLIZED

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we allllll know the scene where the main girly walks into a room, and everything slows down—the music swells, heads turn, and she’s indisputably it? shifting is the awareness that you can become the star of your own cinematic masterpiece. we’ve spent our whole lives watching them, not only worshipping them ourselves, but watching everyone else worship them too—why wouldn’t we want to emulate them? stand on that pedestal ourselves? see what it feels like to be the star, rather than just a planet in it’s orbit

your life becomes a montage of iconic moments—sipping lattes at golden hour, dramatic declarations of love, perfectly-timed witty comebacks. “directed by Sofia Coppola,” with a sprinkle of “scored by Hans Zimmer.” the mundane? not in this reality. you don’t have to romanticize it, it’s effortlessly romantic regardless. every day is a movie, and you’re the lead

FEELING LIKE YOU HAVE TO EARN THEIR LOVE (after all, you’ve loved them for how long?)

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let’s talk about it—so many shifters have spent hours obsessing over their comfort characters. like, not just casually liking them, but worshipping every single thing they do. from their messy hair to their stupid one-liners to how they hold a coffee cup—clocked it all. you’ve been practically crawling through the desert for their every move, memorizing their quirks, and feeling tsunamis of emotion over the tiniest details. they yawned? perfection. they glared? iconic. they exist? life-changing. i don’t have to explain this to you, you get the picture

so when you shift your awareness to your desired reality and meet them—right in front of you? yeah, it’s a whole new ball game now. you’re face-to-face with this person you’ve basically put on a pedestal for years, and suddenly it’s like, “i’ve gotta play catch-up now?” because seriously—you’ve already poured gallons of love and energy into them, but they’re just meeting you for the first time. they don’t have the context, the fanfiction, or the Pinterest boards. they don’t know you’ve been their day-one, silently adoring them from across realities (well, depending on what you script of course. maybe they do *shrug*)

it’s completely natural to feel like you’ve gotta put in the work to even things out. you’re out here thinking, “how do I make them see me the way I see them?” through your script you’re trying to charm them, show off your personality, and make sure they fall as hard as you already have. you might feel like every move has to be flawless, like you’re auditioning for the role of Most Important Person in Their Life

gentle reminder that your comfort character isn’t just a walking aesthetic—they’re layered, real, and perfectly imperfect (which, tbh, is probably why you fell for them in the first place.) and once they catch even a glimpse of who you are, it’s game over for them. they’re gonna feel that energy you’ve been radiating for years, and it’ll be magnetic (they’re gonna be sooo glued to you you’re gonna be looking at them like they’re crazy.)

so why does it matter? at the end of the day, script whatever you want the people in your DR to feel about you, script experiences to bring you closer until your fingers fall off and your head pops—their unconditional love for you is inevitable, so why should anyone be concerned about the rest stops on the trip there?

FINALLY HAVING ACCESS TO WHAT YOU DESERVE

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let’s cut to the chase: shifting is likely the first chance you’ve ever been aware of to claim what’s always been yours. you’re not asking, you’re taking. whether it’s love, fame, adventure, or just a life that feels like a dream, shifting found you, and it’s your time to reap the rewards

this isn’t about being selfish or having a need for attention—it’s about self-love. you’ve waited long enough, played it small long enough. now, you’re stepping into a world where you don’t just survive—you thrive. no guilt, no apologies, just you living the life you’ve always deserved. main character energy? that’s your birthright, babe. go claim it

love u all immensely :^) xx

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[tragicallyreal]

"Your eyes are green," you say.

The shape shifter turns a panicked stare - now a bubbling mix of amber, green, magenta, and cerulean - to you. "H-how can you be sure?"

"Also, you're a boy."

"I'm a MAN, thank you." He barks out with a wry chuckle. "Wasn't confused about that part, oddly enough."

"You can if you wanna be."

"Yeah, I know, it's 2024."

You bite back a grin, glad to have broken through your friend's misery just a little bit. "Blonde hair, but not super blonde. It's kinda sandy...? Or like..." You perk up instantly, thrusting a confident finger into the air. "A croissant!"

"A croissant." He deadpans.

"A croissant."

He begins to shift as you continue your description, each breath coming out more evenly than the last. Moles dot his skin where you tell them to lie, skin turns shades of brown and beige and tan until you find his exact shade. He grows "tall-ish," per your instruction. A scar pops up under his left knee cap.

"I remember this," he muses with a smile. "When we broke into that abandoned railway station."

"You had to get a tetanus shot! I was worried sick."

He laughs, and for once it sounds like him - full and deep and manic all at once. "Didn't you throw up? From crying too hard?"

"Shut up!"

"Alright, alright. So, are we done?"

You shake your head emphatically. "Definitely not! I haven't done the important bits, yet!"

He listens intently, ready to call upon his powers again.

"You're funny. Like, bust-your-ribs-laughing funny."

He pauses, green eyes turning to you.

"And you've watched Gladiator way too many times, but not for the action and gore and stuff. That scene in the wheat field always makes you cry."

"It's very well done!" He defends.

"You'd probably kill someone for lemon squares. Perfume gives you headaches. You stop at EVERY roadside attraction. And, you're kind. And smart. And super stubborn, but it works for you. And --"

"Ok," he rolls his eyes, "none of that is important. What do I look like? Did we get everything?"

"Oh, I have absolutely no idea what you look like."

He stops, eyes going wide again.

You try to stop him before he falls apart. "But, I do know that you secretly hate my home made potato soup, but you choke it down anyway, which is really sweet."

"That doesn't MATTER --"

"OF COURSE IT DOES! That's all that matters!" You take a shuddering breath, trying to stay strong for him. "I don't know what color your eyes are, but I DO know that you're the most incredible person I've ever met. I know I couldn't live without you."

"But..."

"I know I love you."

That, finally, shuts him up.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events. 

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!" 

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"  

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side. 

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway. 

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer. 

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him." 

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time. 

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-" 

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.  

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!" 

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!" 

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind. 

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least. 

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-" 

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief. 

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind. 

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce. 

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all." 

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this. 

Damian is a twin. 

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin. 

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose." 

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound." 

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!" 

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small. 

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again. 

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

[mejaemin]

nonchalant- jeon wonwoo

wc: 0.9k

summary: clingy wonu /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

warnings: streamer!wonu, writer!reader, fluff, not proofread !!!

an: i can think of so many ways to make a pt.2 to this… will i? nope!

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the letters on your laptop’s keyboard are surely to start fading any time soon, but it’s worth it. especially right now. there’s yet to be a single time where you’ve felt this much inspiration in your entire career, so you refuse to let this go to waste. your eyes flicker to the notebook sitting next to you, information on the paper translating in your mind and being typed out into coherent sentences on the document.

you’re really proud of what you’ve written so far. you had your boyfriend read your unorganized thoughts you had set out for the plot and what not, and he thinks it’s good too. once your brain felt ready to start writing the real thing, your fingers were flying. you slipped your headphones on, essentially blocking out the entire world as you worked. you started when it was still light out, and you’ve only gotten up to use the bathroom, really. it’s dark now, and although he’s not working quite as hard, you can still sense your boyfriend moving around the house, making commentary as he pre records gaming content.

he’s left you alone so far. he’s not the type to nag you too much about taking care of yourself, especially when he’s already learnt his lesson about interrupting you when you have one of these moments of inspiration. not to mention he has times like this too, even if it was for something like a long term livestream. still, he treats you how he would want to be treated in the same situation. by that he means undisturbed… with the occasional interruption, of course. he likes to have his game time but if he isn’t filming he still wants to be with you.

your phone is on do not disturb, keeping wonwoo’s obnoxious friends and their instagram reel notifications from disturbing your work, so when a message notification dings through your headphones you know who it is.

won🖤: Are you almost done yet?

won🖤: I’ve finished recording.

you: no, sorry love :( i still have some left in me.

you: just a little more, okay?

won🖤: Just a little more. I try not to be that guy, but you really should stop soon. Eat something

you reacted with 👍

setting your phone down, you crack your knuckles with a sigh. you were reaching the end of your inspiration spark, so you really wanted to rush to get whatever you could in. it’s extremely rare that this happens, and you couldn’t stress it enough. you’ve got deadlines to meet, and for this to happen to you was literally perfect. you’re basically set, and might even be able to take a day off tomorrow.

you’ve gotten back onto your groove, putting the music on high while you work. you’re typing word after word, paragraph after paragraph flawlessly. everything you’ve been mapping out for weeks is finally coming to fruition, and it’s doing so perfectly. you’re so zoned in that you don’t notice when wonwoo comes in, only taking note of his presence when the weight shifts on the bed and his head lands on your shoulder.

you pause, pulling the headphones off your head. “do you need something?” you ask, hand instinctively coming to brush through his hair.

he looks up at you, and you’re sure he doesn’t notice the way he’s pouting. it’s rare that he’d be like that voluntarily. “how far are you? you’re almost done?”

“mm, i don’t think so.. sorry. i really need to make the most of this or else i’ll never get this finished.” you kiss the top of his head, and as soon as you put your hand back towards the keyboard he grabs it.

“you’ve been sitting here all day.”

“yeah, i noticed. but i’ll do just a little more, ‘kay?” you kiss his crown and return to work.

you finish the second to last plot point you had mapped out, and now you’re just revising what you done so far. even by your own standards you’ve done enough, and since wonwoo is indirectly begging you to spend time with him (in his own way) by clinging to your side, you suppose you can stop for now. it hasn’t even been that long and you can see him looking from his phone to you every three seconds. it’s cute really, how he’s trying so hard to be nonchalant about it when he wants to spend time with you so bad. every time he wants your attention, he sort of hovers around you and stares at you until you give it to him. he’ll never say it out loud, but he’s definitely going to be obvious about it in other ways.

you shut your computer and set it on the night stand, turning towards him fully. the corners of wonwoo’s mouth twitch as he tried to hold back his smile, but you know he’s happy that he’s won.

“you’re done now? are you gonna go back to work, or are you really done?” he asks, sitting up and readjusting his glasses.

you giggle at his cuteness, kissing his cheek. “yes, nonu. you’ve got my full, undivided attention now, ‘kay?”

he’s already up before you are, rambling about how excited he is to spend the rest of the night with you, even if it’s already late. he’s walking into the kitchen to make ramen for you, talking about eating it together while watching something, and then stopping to ponder about what to do after. you trail behind him, a smile on your face. your nonchalant, black cat boyfriend who uses very few words will throw it all out the window if it means getting your attention and keeping it for a good moment.

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[shrimpybbq]

thinking of how maybe high school gf probably pushed herself too hard after emmy was born because she kind of reverted back to when charlie was a baby and how she had no help and also taking care of rafe on her own. and rafe obviously doesn’t like that

this is similar to the last ask i answered, but she definitely did - especially as rafe was so busy with work and trying to rebuild the reputation of cameron development. she tried to do everything by herself, always doing her best to manage a bubbly and adventurous charlie with a brand new baby that couldn’t be left alone. she was constantly telling rafe,

“No it’s ok, you need to rest.”

“You have a big meeting tomorrow with the investors, don’t worry about this. I can take care of it.”

rafe was also off the drugs by that time, but when she noticed him start to drink more and more she began to do her best to help him. it didn’t really work, but he did promise her he would set a limit on his drinking. rafe didn’t realise how stressed and overwhelmed she was until he came home from a meeting one day, only to see her sobbing on the bed as she cradled emmy in her arms, the small baby crying non-stop.

“Hey, hey - baby! What’s going on? Are you ok?” he asked, watching her almost not even register his words.

“She won’t stop crying, Rafe! I’ve fed her, and I’ve changed her, and I sang to her and wore her and she just won’t stop and Charlie wants to play in the garden and I need to get your suit ready for tomorrow and the-“

rafe froze as he watched his wife cry, finally realising just how much she had been doing, and that maybe - despite her claims, she wasn’t coping. he felt awful and couldn’t believe he had been too blind to notice her struggling.

“Hey, give her to me, ok? Go take a nice bath, with all those salts and fragrances you like. I’m gonna look after the kids and get everything done,” rafe had commanded.

“No, but-”

“No, baby. You need to relax. You deserve it,” he continued, grabbing emmy from her arms as she looked up at him pitifully, “and ‘m sorry. I should’ve seen that you weren’t ok. I’m gonna do better and be here more often, m’kay? I’m not gonna be like my dad.”

rafe had practically dragged her into the bathroom and closed the door before walking down to the kitchen with his daughter. she had stopped crying after a few moments in her father’s arms (go figure),

“Hey, you’re not being very nice to your mother, you know that?”

rafe had carried out all the tasks he knew were on her list for the evening and even ordered take out for dinner that night, not wanting her to do any more work. he grinned as she wandered down the stairs after an hour, noticing her calmer demeanour,

“Feeling better, baby?”

she gave him a low hum in agreement and he had smiled once more, reaching down to kiss her. his hands ran over her hair, smoothing down the wet strands and admiring his wife.

“I meant what I said. You’re not doing this alone, and if I ever make you feel that way again, tell me. I gotta take care of you - you’re my wife. We’re partners in this shit.”

rafe and high school gf shared a smile and another kiss before turning to the gurgling baby girl in her high chair, her chubby cheeks now smushed full of food. she was the perfect mix of the two of them, and as the couple admired their baby girl, they shared a warm embrace.

[bisexualbaker]

Oh shit yeah I got this!

Okay, so our main characters, let's call them Steve and Monica, because I need names and don't want to think too hard. Anyway, they grew up together, were platonic ride-or-die for each other in high school, but drifted apart when they went to colleges in different states where they eventually settled down. Monica ended up in a very restrictive state and Steve ended up in a much more pro-choice state. They occasionally message each other on the internet, but nothing really meaningful, usually no more than a Hi on their birthdays or relevant holidays (etc).

Then one day Steve gets a call from Monica. Her recent ex-boyfriend—well, she'd really been thinking of breaking up with him for a couple of months before that, but the final straw was three months ago when she found him messing with her birth control. She immediately kicked him to the curb and went about disentangling their lives, went and got Plan B or equivalent ASAP, just in case.

Well, turns out it was too late: She was already pregnant, and didn't get real confirmation until very recently. And, well, surely Steve knows how things are in the state where she lives.

Steve does know how things are in the state where Monica lives. He also knows that Monica has never wanted to have children, since they talked about it some in high school. There could be various reasons here, from bad experiences with her own parents, to financial reasons, to health reasons, but he never saw fit to argue with any of them. Her choice, right? Meanwhile, Steve himself isn't really sure on the kids thing, but he's leaning towards "no thanks", because he is sure that anyone making the choice to bring kids into the world had better be 100% on board, and he's not, so that means no. (Also, if he feels the need to spend any time with kids, he's got local friends and/or family with little ones he can spoil.)

Anyway! Steve tells Monica that it sounds like she's been having a rough time, maybe he could come pick her up and she could spend a week or two at his place, get resettled after everything that went down with That Jerk (very clearly not saying what else they could, or rather will, be doing while Monica is visiting). Deeply relieved, Monica takes him up on his offer enthusiastically. Steve calls his job, takes a few weeks off of work, and drives over to pick up Monica.

They've got an appointment in Steve's state, but it's still some days away, so they take a leisurely trip back to Steve's. All the while they're reconnecting, and Steve is noticing that all of the things he liked about Monica as a friend in high school are still there, and are also things he'd really like in a life partner. Her sense of humor, her willingness to compromise, her determination to find a way to make things work, her money sense... She's also much more confident in herself than she used to be, which Steve finds really attractive.

Or at least, she's more confident in herself whenever pregnancy shit isn't getting to her. Steve already knew that pregnancy and kids aren't something Monica ever wanted, but if he ever needed more convincing, he's getting it both on this road trip and when they get back to his condo. Still, he does everything he can to try and keep Monica's spirits up, to distract her and/or make sure she's prepared for her abortion and everything it will involve. (All the while, he's also learning what he can to make sure he can help her through the aftermath. Apparently post-partum isn't necessarily just for giving birth; all those hormones and body changes can also hammer down after any other pregnancy ending circumstances!)

Steve drives her to the clinic, waits with her when she asks him to, waits for her during, and does everything he can to make her as comfortable as possible as she recovers. One thing after another is just more yes, yes, yes, this is what he wants in his life, Monica is who he wants in his life.

He's a bit stuck on how or if to confess, though; this was a deeply shitty situation for Monica, and it's also something he could hypothetically hold over her legally after everything, which he would never do, but he knows might make things more difficult for both of them. Then, a day or two before he's set to start driving Monica home, he checks in on Monica packing—only to find her crying.

Steve immediately asks Monica what's wrong, if he can help with anything, and Monica just starts crying harder. She ends up confessing her own feelings, how she started to fall for Steve when he didn't judge her for her shitty ex-boyfriend and how she wanted to terminate the pregnancy (which more than a few of her local friends had), and then everything else he did to make her feel happy and secure while helping her out just really sealed the deal! She got half way through packing before she realized that she didn't actually want to leave him, but she also didn't want to put pressure on him after he'd done so much for her already.

Steve immediately hugs her and confesses back, telling her he doesn't want her to leave either but didn't want to put pressure on her, and also maybe this was a little soon after all of the everything going on. But he would love to go out to dinner with her properly, before he takes her back home, and again when they get there, and then maybe they could see how things go from there? They can try doing long-distance for a month or two, and if they're both still certain, they can get together more formally and figure out where to live.

Fast-forward ten years, Monica and Jake are happily married, with three dogs and a tortoise. They still don't want kids.

The end.

Edit: Okay, this is not "and the person who got them pregnant", but it mostly still works!

there's an extremely niche plot in romance fiction wherein our invariably heterosexual leads fall in love after a night of passion leads to an unplanned pregnancy and they're now bound together by an impending child. I cast no judgment on anyone who enjoys this, but since I'm an evil gay and this is my personal nightmare scenario I want to see a zany romance novel premised on the opposite resolution: a couple falls in love while on a whirlwind roadtrip to obtain a legal abortion

[luveline]

this request may be a bit of a long shot, but would you be willing to write a drabble for mouth of september? maybe she gives the boys a scare either by going out and then not coming home at the time she said she would or maybe she faints from not having eaten enough? totally okay if you don’t want to or if you want to use this as a prompt for something else, mos has just been one of your fic series that i think about pretty consistently even two-ish years later.

anyway have a great day and hope you’re doing well jadey <3 love u

I love you! me writing this actually did feel like a longshot but not cos I didn’t love it and not cos I don’t love u, I hope you enjoy it!! been so long since I wrote this !!🩵 fem! 4k words

cw suicidal thoughts/suicidal ideation

It’s cold tonight. 

You blow on your fingers, feeling them warm, stiffness lanced for precious few seconds. You didn’t mean to walk so far from the house, not while the wind is racing like this. The corner shop just seemed to move around while you weren’t looking. You should’ve asked Sirius to go with you, he has a better sense of direction, even if he would’ve complained the whole time about the shit weather. 

Remus would’ve come and not complained, but he was sleeping at the time and waking him felt cruel. James would’ve come, racing around in Lily’s car, but then he would’ve followed you back into the house insisting on making you some supper or a cuppa or something, and what you’d wanted was to be alone. A bar of chocolate wouldn’t hurt either. 

Stupid travelling corner shop, you think to yourself. Stupid me for fucking losing it. Should’ve just stayed home. Can’t even walk to the shop. 

You take a deep breath. You give the streets a wretched, embarrassed glare and flop down onto the nearest bench. Fuck’s sake. Lost and freezing to death. 

If Sirius were here, if he heard what you were thinking, he’d frown at you with that dark pinch to his eyes and tell you to Stop it, now. 

He’s maybe half of the reason you’re out of the house tonight. Maybe all of it. It’s all complicated and horrible and everyone thinks it’s a bad idea but the thing is that Sirius himself isn’t complicated, he isn’t horrible. He’s kind to you in funny ways, and when you’re together Sirius makes you feel like you’re someone worth being kind too, which doesn’t happen often. 

Your self annoyance fades to something more familiar soon enough. Everything goes quiet, leaving you there with your heart, quick and slow beating, can’t seem to choose, and your cold feet. Your socks feel too tight. 

Your teeth start to chatter. You can’t sit here forever. 

(But wouldn’t it be better? If you stayed? Caught cold?) 

If you get poorly from the cold, you’ll feel miserable from the moment you wake up. You’ll be ill at work, which will make work worse. You’ll have to stay in your room so you don’t get one of the boys sick, and that really would ruin your week. Nothing means anything if you don’t get to see your best friends. 

You gather yourself up and turn toward the street you’d just walked down, determined to retrace your steps. 

In the distance, a familiar shape is jogging toward you. 

“Y/N?” James shouts, sounding as though all the breath in the world has been sucked from his lungs. He doesn’t stop jogging until he gets a few feet from you, where he bends to catch his breath. “Fucking hell!” His head snaps up. “Fuck, shortcake, are you alright?” 

You close the distance. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you?” He forces himself to stand, breathing hard as he grabs you by the wrist. “Are you okay? You scared me so badly.” 

You grab his arm back. “I’m really fine, I’m fine, what’s wrong?” 

“You’re what’s wrong, you aren’t home!” James swallows a lump. “You left a note, you’d be home by seven. It’s nearly ten. Remus rang me in a fit ‘cos he didn’t know where you’d gone, we thought–” James gives you an imploring look, though it’s so so sorry at the same time, you feel your stomach twist into a hard knot. “We thought you were having a bad night.” 

“James.” Embarrassment makes you soft-toned. “I’m really sorry I scared you, but I got lost, that’s all.” You don’t really like to lie, only James seems to need to hear it. “I’m glad you found me. I was worried I wouldn’t get home.” 

James gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, good.” 

You’re pulled into a hug. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No, it’s okay.” He rubs your back with force. It feels more for him than you, though you don’t exactly mind it. You can pretend as much as you want that you don’t like it when the boys give you affection, but they know it’s not true, and they know it’s alright to give it to you most days. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine as long as you’re fine.” 

“Fine,” you say. 

He pulls away. “Oh, god. Alright, let’s go back to the house. It’s freezing, you’re not wearing a proper coat?” 

“I didn’t plan on being out long.” 

“No?” 

He takes you by the shoulder to encourage you back the way you came. “Just wanted some chocolate,” you say. 

“I’ll get you some.” 

You both know it doesn’t add up. James doesn’t make you say much else, relieved you’re alright, and you fester in the guilt of worrying him so harshly. 

“Where are your glasses?” you ask. 

“I forgot them in the car.” 

“Where is the car?” 

“Remus thought you might’ve gone to the library, you were supposed to take that Sky-Fi back.” 

“Sci-fi.” 

“Right, the space books. He took it to see if you were walking home, I said I’d come this way, and Sirius…” James grimaces. “Not sure where he went. He was already out by the time I got to the house.” 

“How are we gonna find him?” 

“He’ll come back eventually.” 

You stick close to James’ side, dodging crisped up leaves and following him down the dropped kerb and finally onto a familiar road. “Guess I’ve lived here so long, I should’ve known the way,” you say. 

“It’s alright.” 

You bite your cheek for a second. “I’m really sorry, James, I– I didn’t– is it really ten?” 

“…Aren’t you cold?” he asks softly. 

“I didn’t think about it.” 

“I wish you would.” He pokes his tongue against his cheek. “I want to know if you’re having a bad night. It’s alright if you were. If you need more time, more help, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not like that… not all of it. I was walking to the shops, I swear. Just feel so,” —your voice slips into a colour of shame you despise— “weird sometimes. I’m sorry I made you worry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

“Is this a common occurrence?” 

“Not the walk, just. Just this. Making you worry. I didn’t mean to make everybody worry.” 

“Well, I am worried. When you disappear for a couple more hours than you say you will, it’s scary.” James gives you a shrug. “I love you, I’m gonna wonder where you are.” 

“But–”

“I worry about Sirius when he goes to the pub until who knows when, worry about Lils when she does too many hours at work. I worry about Remus every day, his eyes are worse than mine ‘cos all he does is read,” he says with a laugh. “It’s fine.” 

“I worry about you too,” you say. 

“About what?” he asks, stricken. 

“Remus told me you can pop your knee out from your kneecap when you weight lift. I know you think it’s fun and stuff, but that’s scary.” 

“I’m getting fit!” He rolls his eyes. “Lily likes my abs.” 

“Well I liked you when you were soft.” 

James cackles at your poor fake-flirting. “I’ve never been soft, take that back! You know being captain made me solid as a rock.” 

“James?” a voice calls. 

You look up at the same time. Sirius is sitting on the wall in front of the house smoking; he takes a harsh, quick drag and stabs it out so hard that ash sullies his fingers as he stands. 

“Oh,” he says, blowing the smoke from his mouth quickly, his breath a ragged thing as he bounds across the road to hug you. “Sorry.”

You don’t get what he’s sorry for. “It’s okay.” 

He smells so strongly of smoke it’s like he’s blowing it under your nose, but he’s not so sharp to the touch. You falter at being touched kindly, feeling tension in his back as you curl an arm around him. 

Sirius digs his face into your neck. 

“Hey?” you ask quietly. 

He steps back suddenly, an accusing fist held between your two abdomens. “Where have you been?” he asks, and there’s the sharpness to match his smell, scowl turning his grey-blue eyes to pitch, lashes in a furious tangle. “You can’t do that. You can’t just disappear for hours.” 

“I’m sorry–”

“It’s not okay.”

“She said she’s sorry,” James interjects, “maybe let’s leave it?” 

“Being sorry doesn’t erase the last two hours of us panicking, though, does it?” 

“She got lost–”

“James, it’s okay, it’s–” You shake your head. “Maybe you should go inside to warm up? You’re not wearing a coat either.” 

“I was in a rush.” James gives Sirius a warning look. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. Five minutes and I’m coming back out.” 

James trudges up the garden path to the house. You twist your hands together, staring into Sirius’ face, wanting to see every bit of his anger, keeping tabs on all of it so as not to be surprised. You should’ve known he’d run out of patience with you eventually. He’s had to deal with your awful moods more than anyone else. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Do you realise how scary it is to worry you’ve hurt yourself?” Sirius asks starkly. 

You flinch. “It doesn’t exactly feel great for me, either.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Still, he softens. You feel like you’ve cheated. “I don’t understand. You got lost? How far away from the house were you?” 

“I don’t know, I was trying to go to Del’s.” 

“You’re not being honest with me, or any of us. It’s not fair. My heart is like a fucking racehorse,” he says, pressing his hand to his chest, fingertips smudgy with ash, “’cos all I’ve thought tonight is that you’d gone off and jumped off of a bridge or something. I know you wouldn’t.” He lets his hand fall. He quietens. It is almost apologetic, how he slows. “I know you wouldn’t. I knew you’d come home. But please don’t make me think about it.”

He’s gone pale in the cold, his hair in twists and tucked haphazard behind his ears. In his thick bomber jacket and his jeans, he could’ve just hopped of the bike, windswept as he is, but it’s the mark of worried hands having pushed his hair back repetitively rather than the weather, though the longer you stand there in the wind, the more tangled it becomes. “I dont get why you’re so determined to be alone,” he says. 

You don’t want to talk about it. When do you ever? More than ever, you’d like to stalk past him and slam your bedroom door, let him know you’re fine by yourself and seething, let him stay ignorant to you as you squirm in a bed you’ve come to hate. How often do you lay there wishing you could be alone forever? It’s not fair to anyone. It doesn’t make sense. They all love you and you feel sorry for them, ‘cos you tricked them, ‘cos you’re nothing worth thinking about for long. 

Sirius won’t stop frowning at you. It makes the drowning feeling worse. 

“I’m sorry,” you say again, hoping this time it’ll stick. “I don’t know what happened, I just wasn’t thinking. I don’t feel very well.” 

“I know.” He scoffs to himself. You relax at the hint of self-deprecation. “It’s not your fault. I’m fucking furious with you but I know you can’t help it.” 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. For saying you’d jumped off a bridge, that’s horrible, but you really fucking worry me sometimes and I’m so relieved that you’re okay that it’s making me horrible.” 

“You’re not horrible.” 

“I’m mean.” 

“You’re not.”

“No, I am. You’re the only person who doesn’t see it. Or at least doesn’t say it.” Sirius rubs his face, scraping a stray hair from his nose. “Sorry for shouting. Here,” —he holds out his arm— “let’s have a proper one.” 

He hugs you nicely, no force to it, less lingering smoke. The scratch of his cheek catches yours, his hand at the bottom of your back, your jacket and shirt rising with every sweep of his touch. You press your closed eye to his hair. 

“Why didn’t you come and sit with me or– we could’ve talked. Could’ve just led in bed, doesn’t matter, I would’ve gone to the shop with you.” He squeezes you, pressing his nose to your shoulder. “I can be morbid. We can be two miserable layabouts together.” 

“I didn’t…” You cringe. “Sirius, it’s not on purpose, I swear. I didn’t do it to make you worry.” 

“I know that, Jesus.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re home.” 

You pull apart as a car turns onto the street. That’ll be Remus. Another for your troupe of worry. 

“What do you think, is he mad at me too?” you ask. 

“Remus?” Sirius gives you another half hug. “‘Course not.” 

And true to form, Remus climbs out of the car with a fond smile. “Hey, where have you been?” His hair ruffles in the wind, scars turned palest purple in the cold. “You need to learn how to tell time.” 

You let him hug you. “Sorry.” 

“That’s alright, let’s go inside though. Have some tea. Did you eat much today?” 

You ignore the question. “Tea,” you say. 

“Yeah.” 

Remus ushers you down the path to the house, Sirius on your other side like bodyguards. 

“Thanks for, uh, looking for me.” 

Remus takes you by the forearm. “We’ll always look for you. But next time, wake me up first.” 

You nod gratefully. “Uh, okay. Thank you.” 

“Stop saying thanks. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s fine.” 

That’s what you’ve all said, but it doesn’t make it true. 

—

James goes home, though he doesn’t want to. “I can stay,” he says over the rim of his mug, half-pleading, wanting you to ask him to. “We can have a sleepover.” 

You insist that you’re really fine, he has work tomorrow, it’s late. When he doesn’t move, you say, “I feel bad enough that you were out looking for me in the cold.” 

Your voice is pathetic and scratchy and he can tell you’re going to cry, they all can, so he doesn’t push it anymore than that. He goes home, and you go to bed, and Remus follows you up a little bit later with a glass of juice and some thick, buttered slices of teacake. 

“You okay?” he asks, climbing into bed next to you where you’re laying down. 

“Fine.” 

“Didn’t eat much today?” 

“No.” 

“Have the juice, at least.” 

You take the glass. 

Between your sorry sips, Remus picks at one of the slices of cake, steals looks at you, though he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. 

“Sorry about today. Didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“You can stop saying sorry.” Remus lets his head tip from one side to another. “I can hear it in your voice that you don’t want to say it. Not that I don’t believe that you’re really, actually sorry. But you keep repeating it because you’re worried I want you to do that, and I don’t.” 

“It’s what I should say.” 

“Well, you’ve said it.” Remus turns to you, all bookish and rakish at once, lovely but tired, and he must be giving you a similar appraisal. “I wanted to be your friend the second I first talked to you. It wasn’t guilt.” He shakes his head. Wasn’t ’cos they’d played that prank on you with the shoe-eating goo, spied on you crying in a school hallway, overwhelmed. “I just liked you, and that was without any sort of knowledge of what you’re like. Now that I know you, I couldn’t be rid of you. Truly. I love you, you know that?” He smiles gently. “Even when you need time and you disappear. Please… don’t really go anywhere though, will you?” 

“I won’t.” You decided a long time ago that ending your life wasn’t in the cards. There are terrifying moments, numb ones, blink-and-it’s over ones, where you feel like it’s the only option you have. But it ends eventually, or it sinks into a background to be forgotten until the next time it aches. 

“Are you eating properly?” he asks. 

“Remus–” You shake your head as he brings a hand to your forehead, like he might stroke your hair. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“You don’t like answering, that’s all.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“I’ve made you talk much more than you would’ve liked to, tonight.”

“I like talking to you. To all of you.” You rest your head on his thigh. “You really are my favourite people in the world, Remus. I wouldn’t… wouldn't give you up.” 

“Good,” he says, stroking your forehead just a few times. “‘Cos we can’t be without you.” 

Sirius finds you collapsing in on one another a little later and rounds the bed to lay on your other side. He doesn’t bother sitting as Remus did, pulling the blankets up and slipping in beside you without worrying about what parts of you are touching parts of him, nor the slip of your back where your shirt’s riding up, nor how warm it is under the quilt. He grabs the end of your t-shirt and pulls it flat over your stomach, before his hand spreads out there, and you realise half-heartedly that he’s hugging you from behind. The room is barely seeable. Remus is nearly sleeping. Your tea cake went uneaten, left stodgy and dark on the nightstand. 

“This okay?” Sirius asks. 

“Yeah.” 

He burrows nearer, rubbing his nose against the back of your neck, then taking a long breath of you. 

“Are you mad?” you ask. 

“Not anymore.” 

You can’t believe that any of them could love you so much as to look for you. That James would want to stay the night, and that he’d let you turn him away. If you had any energy left in you tonight you would’ve done the same to Remus, and then Sirius. James won’t be happy when he finds out they’d slept in the bed with you and left him out, but he’ll forgive it eventually. None of them should care so much about you, what’s special about you? What’s even really good? What’s worth it? 

Sirius breathes behind you. He doesn’t seem scared to touch you, not worried to lay as close to you as your bodies will allow. His heat sinks into you. 

“Know any poems?” he asks, letting you shift into his back as he pushes an arm beneath you, curling, really holding you to him, a spoon of a hug. 

“What kind did you want to hear?” 

Sirius doesn’t answer. You hold still as his hand begins looping over your stomach. 

“I can’t remember anything right.” 

“Can you guess at one for me?” he asks. 

You stare at Remus’ falling chest. You’re lucky to have good friends. 

“I read one a few days ago, a couple of times, it was only a few lines.” You wait. Sirius doesn’t say anything, so you start to relay the poem slowly, stringing the words together as they come. “The world was a… nautilus shell... And the world was a grain of sand.” Your voice is odd, but the lines come to you regardless. “The world was a honeycomb�� And the world was a strip of tender bark.” 

Sirius lets his lips warm your neck, asking softly, more touch than sound, “That was the whole poem?” 

You take his hand where it’s against you. “That’s it.” 

He nods. 

The world was a nautilus shell. And the world was a grain of sand. The world was a honeycomb. And the world was a strip of tender bark. You run through the poem again, three times, tripping over strip and tender and bark as Sirius’ breath warms your nape. 

“Please don’t do that again,” he says. 

“I didn’t mean to–” You force yourself to stay still. “I would never do something like that to scare you.” 

“Nobody in this room or out of it believes that you went on your walk tonight to scare them.” His nose tips down your neck. His hand spreads wider over your stomach. It feels so weird, so warm and rigid. It’s the best touch you’ve ever been given, and it doesn’t matter because you’re so ashamed of yourself —you went on your stupid little walk with at least some bad intent, and your friends noticed because they love you when they shouldn’t bother. This is a stain now, something you’ll remember. “But I can’t take it. Do you get that? I can’t take it. James found you two hours ago and I still feel like I don’t know where you are.” 

“Didn’t mean to.” 

“I know, love.” He actually does kiss your neck then, quiet smack of a real kiss. “I know. I know.” His forehead presses to your shoulder as he settles in. “You’re okay. I’m not mad.” 

“Me neither,” Remus croaks. 

You let yourself relax enough to feel tired. Warmth from either side of you threatens to bowl you over. 

“How are you feeling now?” Sirius asks. 

“Fine.” Always fine. They deserve better honesty. “I didn’t want to hurt myself. Jus’… I needed to move, like, go, and I hate this part. I don’t think it should matter that I’m not– that I don’t feel well.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Sirius says quietly. 

“I’m not.” You sound tight. “When I want to be somewhere, it doesn’t make sense that it matters. In the moment, I don’t remember that you…” 

“Love you?” Sirius asks. 

“I know why you were worried, I promise. I don’t live in a bubble. I know I’m selfish.” 

“Not selfish.” 

“It was, though.” 

“You’re thinking about it like we have a problem with what you did, and it’s my fault because I got so mad, but it’s not really that you did it.” His hand curls shy of your breastbone. “I was mad, but– darling,” —you squeeze your eyes shut— “you’re not on trial. You don’t have to prove your way out of this, all we need to know is if you’re alright now.” 

“Not really.” 

Remus gives a half-sleeping mumble. 

Sirius sits up in bed to look at both of you. “We love you. We,” —he gestures between you and Remus emphatically— “aren’t going to stop. No matter how many walks you go on, how many scares you give me.” He frowns at you sympathetically. “We’re not getting any further, are we?” 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry.” He grimaces, dark around the eyes. “I’m a right prick and I’ve made a right mess of everything.” 

“It’s okay,” you whisper, chancing a touch, terrified you’ll be reprimanded for it but knowing, as you know he loves you, that you’re allowed. The tips of your fingers touch his collarbone. Sharp thing. 

He pulls a jib, lips all up and thinned like a smirk gone wrong. “Love you.” 

You must’ve petrified him. He’s never so open with his feelings, even when it’s half-joking like this. 

“I love you, too.” 

He makes another face. Good enough, it says. 

“Make me hot chocolate?” you whisper. 

“Mm, come on.” He pulls you from the bed by your wrists. “Don’t complain when it’s gritty. I’m not skilled as Remus.” 

“Quite right,” Remus mumbles. 

You hug him quickly before you leave. 

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 22: Size Kink

Today, we have actress Park Bo young, getting some extra practice with how her character acts.

Length 1.2K

Park Bo Young X Mreader

Boyoung felt your bulge rub against her as the two of you acted through the sex scene.  Even though you were both wearing modesty garments to protect yourself, she felt your cock through it; she could feel your size. It was making her wet as she felt your strong hands hold her wrists by her head. She wasn’t acting. Boyoung was getting turned on. Her soft moans were real. You kissed her passionately. Boyoung wrapped her legs around your waist, and her tongue lingered in your mouth as you played your part. The moment the director said cut, you pulled back; Boyoung reached forward, wanting to continue before she caught herself and realized the scene was over. “Everyone, we’re taking an hour break. Thank you for your hard work!” The director yells before climbing out of his chair and leaving the sound stage. Some of the stagehands begin cleaning up as you grab bathrobes for you and Boyoung. The young woman puts the bathrobe on and remains seated on the bed as you walk to your dressing room.

Boyoung takes a deep breath and tries to slow her heart rate as the last scene replays in her head. The work she had done with you previously didn’t set her up well for this scene. While she had always liked you, she saw a new side of you that she loved. The strength you showed when you held her down, the way you dominated her with your size, awakened something in her. She stood up slowly and went to your dressing room, wanting to continue the scene but actually performing the act this time.

You head to your dressing room after, trying to relax, when you get a knock on the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s Boyoung!” You walk over to the door and invite your costar inside. “Thanks for letting me in. What do you think about our scenes so far?” She asks, you sitting on your couch.

“I think they’re coming out pretty well. This last one, though… it's a little awkward, isn’t it?” You reply, feeling unsure about your performance in a sex scene.

“No, no! You’re doing great; I could feel everything,” Boyoung curses herself as she realizes what she’s said. “That’s not what I meant, hold on. I just mean that I could feel you putting everything you have into your performance.”

“Ah, that’s what you meant. I was a little worried you could feel me through the modesty garments.” You look down. The modesty garments covered your private areas, but wearing them didn’t give you the most confidence, especially considering your size. “These things are a bit thin, and it makes me a little self-conscious.”

“Ah, you shouldn’t be; you’re perfectly fine,” Boyoung says, patting your chest. “You’re nice and strong in more ways than one. Boyoung purses her lips, considering how to bring up the subject. “I don’t know if you know, but I like to get into my roles. So I’d like to take things a little further.”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

“I want you to fuck me,” Boyoung says bluntly. Throwing caution to the wind, she continues, “I could feel your…cock rubbing against me, and I want to know more about how she would actually react. I need you for this,” Boyoung admits, dropping her robe and removing the modesty garments, bearing her body to you. She steps closer to you, her small hands taking off your modesty garments before reaching for your cock. Her hand can barely wrap around it. Boyoung gulps, mesmerized by your cock; her hand slowly moves from the base to the tip. She brings her other hand to your cock, rubbing the tip against her palm as she squats down. Boyoung was getting excited just holding your cock. “May I?”

You give the small woman a nod; being next to her in the last scene turned you on, and you wanted to fuck her. “Yeah, let’s get more into our roles.” Boyoung squats down, coming face to face with your cock. She gives it a few licks, her small tongue running along the underside before she begins to jerk you off. Boyoung used both hands, amazed at your size. She was getting wetter just thinking about you using it on her. Her mouth barely fit the head of your cock; her lips hollowed as she sucked on it, her tongue licking it like it was a lollipop. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get it down her throat, Boyoung spit on your cock and spread it around your shaft with her hands, pleasing you as she mentally prepared herself. “I think you’re ready,” She says quietly, 

You picked the small woman up easily, holding onto and squeezing her thighs. You align yourself with her entrance and lower her onto your cock. Boyoung squirms in your arms as her walls wrap around your cock. She groans and whimpers as your cock stretches her small cunt, separating her walls and splitting her in two. You move her along your shaft, slowly taking in more of it until you’re buried inside her. Boyoung bites her lip; she can feel your cock stretching her; her fantasies are being fulfilled as you use her like a toy, moving her along your cock. She clings to you, moaning into your ear about how good it feels to have you inside her. 

“You’re so tight,” you grunt in response, reveling in how her walls flex around your cock as you drive it into her. If Boyoung hadn’t been clinging to you before, she would have needed to know that you moved faster. You were getting into a good rhythm, making her bounce on your cock. The older woman moaned your name and begged you for a kiss. You gave in to her demands; your tongue traced her lips until she allowed you inside. You explored each other's mouths. Boyoung moans in the kiss, arching her back as you thrust deeper into her. You make her shiver as you run your hand down her spine; she moans louder, every touch making her entire body tingle. 

“Oh, fuck, you’re so big. I’m going to cum,” She whines, her walls tightening around you. “I want you to cum inside me. I don’t care what happens. Just fill me up.” Boyoung presses her body against your chest, her moans growing louder as she bounces on your cock. 

Nearing your climax, you hold onto Boyoung’s waist tightly, forcing her up and down your shaft as you thrust into her, crushing her womb. “Oh shit! Yes! Fuck me!” Boyoung cries as you use her more like a toy. Her tongue begins to hang out of her mouth. The woman before you was a far sight from the coworker you know, but it only turns you on more. You continue to fuck Boyoung senseless, pistoning in and out of her until you bury yourself inside her suddenly. You cum rushes inside the small woman, painting her walls white before filling her cunt. You rest Boyoung on your cock, letting her recover from her orgasm. You move over to the couch, setting her down on it before pulling out. “Thank you,” Boyoung mumbles, placing her hand against her cunt and collecting your cum; she sucks on her fingers, a look of lust on her face as she tastes the salty liquid.

A knock on your door alerts the two of you. “We’re going to start filming again! Let’s get going!” One of the staff yells from outside. Boyoung looks at you, worried about her disheveled appearance, but quickly gets dressed and puts on her modesty garments and a bathrobe before walking out. You take an extra minute to clean yourself up before walking out, ready to film more scenes with Boyoung. Any scene that involved the two of you making love would be followed by the actual thing in your dressing room.

[nostalgiabearr]

life is so good

☆ pairing: stonerbf!hyunjin x reader

☆ genre: smut, fluff MDNI 18+

☆ word count: 1k

☆ synopsis: it's been a hard week at work and you really need your boyfriend and a smoke sesh

☆ warnings: weed, smoking weed, unprotected sex (don't!), creampie, nipple play, hyunjin drives a truck lmao??

☆ a/n: y'all cannot tell me this hyunjin wouldn't at least smoke weed. also first work on here omg!! pls pls pls don't hesitate to give feedback

as the end of the week approached, you were feeling exhausted. work felt like it had taken up all your time this week and you barely got to see your lover. thankfully, he was all sprawled out on the couch seemingly lost in his own world. you always admired how he could find the positive in everything.

“hey baby,” you said, kissing him on his cheek to pull him out of his daze, “could we go on a drive? i really need a break.” drive and break were usually code words for i really need my baby and i really need weed.

hyunjin smiled as he leaned in for a full kiss and pushed himself up to embrace you. “of course my love. to the overpass?”

“you know me so well,” you said as you helped him up to his feet. on the way out, hyunjin grabbed some joints, and you stole his long hooded cardigan from him. he couldn’t help but notice your dangerously cropped tank and short shorts that barely left anything to the imagination, and you didn’t make it better by draping his clothes over it.

hyunjin helped you climb into the passenger side of his truck and made his way over to the other side to get going. when you two first started seeing each other, you always thought how odd it was that he owned a truck since he was the complete opposite of the typical truck driver. your opinion, however, changed real fast that first night he laid you down on the truck bed to stargaze and later fuck you. now you shared many nights with him smoking, eating, laughing, and fucking in that truck that it could not be a more perfect vehicle for him to own. tonight would be another one of those perfect nights with your perfect boy.

after a quick drive, you two were situated under your favorite abandoned freeway. nestled into the corner of the truck bed, hyunjin took out a joint, pressing it between your lips and flicking the lighter to life. as you took a long drag, hyunjin rested his head in your lap and gazed lovingly up at you.

“tell me what’s wrong baby?” he said before stealing a hit of the joint himself. It was always so easy to open up to him regardless of his carefree nature. hyunjin knew how to be serious when you really needed it and you appreciated that so much. being with him rarely had its down days, but life outside your bubble was sure to not live up to your standards.

as you ranted about rude customers and how your manager somehow stuck the stick up his ass even deeper, hyunjin rubbed slow circles into your thighs. your thin shorts were practically exposing your pussy and hyunjin knew how needy a rough week and weed would leave you. gripping your thigh even tighter, hyunjin maneuvered you to straddle his lap and get even closer to him. 

“remember baby, the world and love are on our side. those people have nothing but karma on their side if they can be mean to my girl.” there was that famous catchphrase of his once again. hyunjin always reminded you that the world and love had you in good hands and everyone else was miserable because they didn’t understand that concept.

with a sigh, you shifted down even harder onto his lap, earning a groan from him. “thank you for listening baby,” you said grabbing the now withered joint from his hands. taking the last hit from it, you ushered him closer and blew the smoke into his mouth as you kissed him deeply. hyunjin’s arms snaked around to your waist as he inhaled the bits you blew into him.

he knew how needy you got, suspecting earlier when you walked in the door from work how this night would end. you were always so in awe of how in tune he was with your emotions, always open to listen, but knowing you had to come to him first before offering his open arms.

sex was pretty much the same, the two of you now moving in sync, grinding against each other as your kisses got sloppier. hyunjin’s hands wandered slowly against your form eventually shrugging his cardigan off your shoulders so he could get a better look at you. his lips fell from yours to stare for a moment before caressing his hands under your short tank top and moving the thin fabric away from your hardening nipples. his lips quickly attached to one while one hand moved from your hips to twist your nipple slowly.

eventually, you had enough and hastily undid his jeans to reveal his straining cock. with his help, you moved your shorts to the side and sunk slowly onto him. time always seemed to stop during sex with hyunjin, but it truly ceased to exist when high. it was like your bodies melted together like this, and with the stars above you, it seemed as if you two were the last people on earth.

as you started to ride him, hyunjin sat up to be able to whisper sweet nothings in your ear and hold you impossibly close.

“my baby is so so good for me, going dumb on my cock and making me see stars.”

soon your slow thrusts turned desperate ruts against each other, your orgasms both quickly approaching. hyunjin’s grip on your hips became bruising as he kissed you sloppily once again urging you to both release at the same time.

“so fucking good, hyune. Gonna cum.”

“me too baby. let all your worries go.” with that, you both let out high pitched moans and slowed your thrusts down as you came against each other. a little piece of each other coming together to fill each other with so much love.

neither of you could muster the energy to pull off each other, instead opting to stare at the stars once again. nothing could beat the feeling of being high on each other, the weed now pretty much out of your systems.

“better now baby?” hyunjin asked as he played with your hair.

“mhm. life is so good with you my love.”

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Merry Christmas

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: oral (Male receiving), fingering (Male receiving), pegging, cussing.

You had never gotten a better Christmas present before. Your wonderful boyfriend decided to give you an early Christmas present. One that you've asked about a few times. He'd always decline it, feeling awkward about it.

But when Christmas rolled around and all the gifts were handed out and opened, he said he had one more gift for you. He led you over to the bedroom, making you confused. When he opened the door, you saw a strap laying on the bed with a thin, pale dildo attached to it.

Your eyebrows shot up, staring at the strap on the bed. “Is this-Are you…?” You looked back over at him.

Mattheo’s eyes darted around the room, feeling shy and awkward about everything. “You keep asking to…so I just thought, you know…”

“Are you sure?” You asked, grabbing his hand to make him look at you.

He cleared his throat, looking back at you. “Yeah. I’m sure. Just…ease into it.”

You smiled before helping guide him over to the bed, tugging down the Christmas pajama pants he was wearing and the boxers underneath as he pulled his shirt over his head. He tossed the shirt on the floor before making work of yours, his lips instantly attaching to one of your nipples. A moan escaped your mouth as you shimmied off your pants before pushing him back to lay on the bed.

His cock was already almost fully erect as you took him in your mouth, taking him as far as you could before popping off. You put one of your fingers in your mouth, making sure it was wet with your spit as Mattheo nearly groaned at the site.

“Gonna go nice and slow.” You said as you took the finger out of your mouth and pressed it against his hole.

He hissed as your finger started pressing in, leaning his head against the mattress. “Fuck.” He groaned.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, pausing your movements.

“Uh uh, keep going.” He muttered.

You continued, pushing your finger in further before taking his cock back in your mouth. He cursed under his breath again, hips thrusting up to make you take him further. You continued for another minute before adding another finger, relishing in all his moans and curses.

You could feel him right about to reach his orgasm before pulling away, chuckling at the whine leaving his throat.

“Don’t forget about my present, Matty.” You smiled as you moved to start putting on the strap.

“Didn’t have to edge me, though.” He grumbled as he caught his breath.

“You act like I won’t let you cum at all.” You laughed, securing the strap on your body.

He rolled his eyes at your words, but didn’t protest any further.

Once you had the strap attached properly, you walked back over to him, guiding him to get on all fours.

“Don’t you dare tell a soul about this.” He threatened as he rolled over to his stomach and pulled himself onto all fours..

“You’re gonna like it.” You said, grabbing some lube from your drawers and pouring it onto the dildo, using your hand to spread it along the length of it.

“Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas.” He muttered sarcastically as you positioned yourself behind him, making you chuckle again.

“Just relax, Matty.” You whispered to him before pressing the dildo to his hole, easing the tip in slowly.

The feeling made him hiss again, cussing as he gripped the sheets. You kept pressing in ever so slowly, making sure not to hurt him, and, based on his moans, it sounded like the opposite. As soon as you bottomed out, you gave him a moment to adjust to the feeling before beginning to pull out slowly. He gasped as you pushed back in, setting a slow pace since this was his first time doing anything like this.

“That feel good?” You asked, gripping his hips softly.

“Yeah, just-just keep it slow.” He nodded before leaning his head forward onto the bed.

“Of course, baby.” You said reassuringly.

You leaned over him, pressing your chest to his back before reaching around to grab his cock. It was rock hard and leaking precum.

“Merlin, fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” He said with some strain after nearly crying out. It was all so much for him.

“Just enjoy it, Matty. I got you.” You said softly, urging him to relax.

You kept your pace, thrusting in and out slowly, stroking his cock in time with your thrusts. It was a bit awkward since you’ve never done this before and it was a little tiring, but his moans were worth it. It was pushing you to keep going.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. I’m gonna-I’m gonna cum. Holy shit.” He warned, shutting his eyes as tight as he could, clutching onto the sheets for dear life.

“Cum for me, Matty. Show me how good it feels.” You said, squeezing his cock just a bit harder.

He thrusted in time with you, fucking his cock into your hand until he came, covering the sheets beneath him in his cum, moaning and crying out until it became too much and he pulled your hand away from his cock. His body began to relax when you stopped, only tensing again when you pulled the dildo out before collapsing onto the bed.

“How was that?” You asked, rubbing his back as you settled beside him.

“Better than I was thinking.” He muttered into the bed.

You chuckled at the confession. “So…is this gonna be a more regular thing?”

“On special occasions.”

“Well, best Christmas present ever.”

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