#and then i woke up and for a second it felt like something was crawling on me

[manmuncher777]

Could you write something about roomates gojo and geto x reader??

Of course I can girl!!! Thank you for the request my love, I hope you enjoy <3

Two years ago, the idea of living with two boys would’ve made you laugh—no way would that ever work.

But Satoru and Suguru aren’t just anyone.

They’re your best friends.

Always have been. Always will b

At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you crawl onto the couch between them without a second thought, stealing the throw blanket from Suguru’s lap and draping it over yourself.

When Satoru laughs and tugs you sideways into his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Suguru doesn’t even blink when your thigh brushes against his under the blanket.

It’s easy.

It’s always been easy with them.

Suguru’s the steady one—the one who cooks most nights, always remembering exactly how you like your noodles, the one who makes sure you’ve had enough water after a night out.

And Satoru’s… well, he’s chaos. Loud, brilliant, exhausting. He keeps you laughing even when you want to scream, always two steps behind you with some ridiculous new scheme or prank.

You don’t know when easy started to feel like something else.

Something thicker. Heavier. A current buzzing under your skin whenever they touched you.

Maybe it was the way Suguru started letting his hand linger on the small of your back a little longer when he squeezed past you in the kitchen.

Maybe it was the way Satoru stopped teasing you about your tiny shorts in the morning—and started leaning back, lazily admiring you instead, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Maybe it was the nights you woke up half-sprawled over Suguru’s chest, Satoru’s arm thrown over your waist, like you were something they both shared.

Maybe it’s been building for a long time.

Tonight feels no different, at first.

You’re all piled on the couch, a movie playing half-forgotten in the background.

Satoru’s feet are hooked under yours, and Suguru’s hand is resting—innocently, you tell yourself—on the bare skin of your knee, thumb stroking slow, absentminded circles.

You don’t even realize you’re staring at them until Suguru catches your gaze and tilts his head slightly, a lazy smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

The pet name punches a hole straight through your chest.

You feel your face flush, heart thudding awkwardly, but you force a smile and shake your head, sinking lower into the cushions.

Satoru chuckles from your other side, leaning closer until his breath ghosts over your ear.

“You’re such a bad liar,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing.

The warmth of them, the weight of their attention—it’s too much.

It makes your skin feel hot and too tight, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from doing something stupid.

Something reckless.

You can feel it, thick and electric in the air between the three of you.

A question no one’s brave enough to ask yet.

Not yet.

But the lines you thought were so clear are starting to blur—and you’re not sure you want to put them back.

It was Suguru’s idea.

(Of course it was.)

Just a lazy Friday night, nothing planned, nothing to do but laze around the apartment—and maybe get a little high.

Satoru had lit up the joint with a dramatic flourish, passing it between the three of you with easy laughter.

At first, it was harmless.

Suguru sprawled lazily on one side of the couch, his hoodie slipping off one broad shoulder.

Satoru lounged across from him, legs spread wide, that stupid, infuriatingly pretty grin tugging at his mouth every time he made you giggle.

You were curled between them again, as always—close enough to feel the heat radiating from their bodies, to smell the faint musk of their cologne and smoke clinging to their clothes.

And then you started to feel it.

The familiar, slow-burning heat pooling low in your stomach.

The way your skin felt too sensitive, every brush of the blanket or accidental graze of a knee making your heart flutter.

The way your thighs kept squeezing together, desperate for even the tiniest bit of friction.

You tried to hide it.

You really did.

But Suguru’s sharp eyes caught the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, and Satoru’s grin widened when you ducked your head to hide your flushed cheeks.

“Hey,” Satoru drawled, voice sticky-sweet with amusement. “What’s the matter, baby? You getting shy on us?”

You shook your head quickly, too quickly, and Suguru chuckled low under his breath, deep and rumbling.

You felt it like a vibration under your skin.

“You’re blushing,” Suguru said, voice deceptively soft. “How cute.”

You whimpered—a tiny, humiliating sound—and immediately covered your face with your hands.

That only made them laugh harder.

“Aww, look at her,” Satoru cooed, reaching over to pry your hands away. His long fingers curled gently around your wrists, holding them captive.

“So sensitive. Bet you’re all worked up already, huh?”

You wanted to tell him to shut up.

You wanted to shove him away and pretend none of this was happening.

But you were too high.

Too warm.

Too needy.

And when Suguru’s hand slid casually up your thigh—slow, deliberate, teasing little circles just above your knee—you whimpered again, a soft, needy sound you couldn’t hold back.

“Ohhh, she is,” Satoru teased, laughter laced with something darker now.

“Fuck, that’s adorable. You get horny when you’re high, baby?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could disappear into the couch.

But Suguru’s hand kept moving higher, slow and easy, until his fingers were ghosting just under the hem of your shorts.

You opened your mouth to protest, to say something, anything—but the only thing that came out was a soft, broken moan.

Both boys went very still.

The air in the room thickened, heavy with something dangerous.

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, teasing whisper against your ear.

“Hey, sweetheart…”

His breath was hot on your skin.

“If you want us to play with you…”

His fingers brushed your jaw, tipping your face toward his.

“All you have to do is ask.”

Suguru’s hand pressed a little higher, thumb stroking the inside of your trembling thigh.

You could barely breathe.

You were trapped between them, pinned by their heavy, heated gazes, by the slow, deliberate way they touched you like they already owned you.

And god help you—

You didn’t want to say no.

“God, she’s shaking,” Suguru murmured, thumb teasing slow, lazy circles into the inside of your thigh.

His voice was pure amusement, laced with that dark heat he always wore so well.

“You that desperate for us already, baby?”

You whimpered, trying to clamp your thighs shut—but his hand was right there, sliding even higher, and Satoru only laughed when he saw your weak attempt at resistance.

“Thought you were tougher than that,” Satoru teased, his fingers feathering along the side of your neck, feather-light and maddening.

“You’re always mouthing off, always giving us that little attitude… and look at you now. Melting. Just ‘cause we’re being a little nice to you.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed against the damp crotch of your shorts and he hummed, like he’d just found something interesting.

“Fuck. You’re soaking through already.”

You made a tiny, desperate noise—half humiliated, half aching—and Satoru cooed at you mockingly.

“Aww, sweet girl,” he said, tapping your cheek playfully. “You want us that bad, huh? Just from a little touching?”

You buried your face against Satoru’s chest, burning with embarrassment, but he only laughed again, curling an arm around your shoulders to hold you there.

“You’re adorable when you’re like this,” he murmured against your temple.

“So sweet. So easy to break down.”

Suguru slid his hand higher, hooking a finger under the elastic of your shorts—so close to slipping inside, but not quite.

You whimpered against Satoru’s chest, hips bucking helplessly.

“Ohhh, look at her,” Suguru said, voice thick with laughter.

“She’s humping my hand now.”

You let out a high, broken little moan—and that’s when both of them stopped teasing for just a beat.

The air crackled between you, heavy and sharp with want.

Satoru pulled back slightly, cupping your chin to tilt your face up to his.

His blue eyes were blown wide with lust, but there was still that teasing, cruel little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You wanna say it, baby?” he asked, voice low and sing-song.

“You wanna tell us what a dirty little slut you are for your best friends?”

Your hips jerked helplessly—and you sobbed a soft, desperate, broken sound.

They both groaned at that, low and guttural.

“Oh, fuck,” Suguru murmured, finally slipping his fingers under your panties to stroke you properly.

“So fucking wet for us.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Satoru leaned down to kiss a tear off your flushed cheek.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, mock-sympathetic.

“Too needy to handle a little teasing, huh?”

You could barely breathe.

You needed it—you needed them—you needed everything they were offering, and you needed it now.

Your hands clutched helplessly at Satoru’s hoodie, your body arching into Suguru’s touch without even thinking.

“Please,” you gasped, voice wrecked and high.

“Please, I need—”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence before Satoru crushed his mouth to yours, devouring you hungrily, teeth dragging along your bottom lip.

Suguru pushed your shorts down, baring you completely, and the low, hungry growl he let out when he saw you made your head spin.

“You’re ours tonight,” he rasped, sliding two fingers into you in one slow, delicious push.

“Fucking ours.”

Satoru’s hands were everywhere, teasing, pulling, and owning every inch of you, while Suguru’s fingers dug deep inside you, curling with slow precision, each thrust hitting deeper than the last.

“Look at her,” Satoru chuckled, the sound dark, smug. He didn’t care that you were a mess, hips bucking helplessly, gasping for more. No—he was too focused on the way your body responded to him, to both of them.

Suguru’s fingers moved with a controlled rhythm, drawing out desperate, gasping breaths from you.

“She’s so fucking pretty like this,” Suguru murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper as he leaned over to press his lips against your ear. “So wet. So ready to just let us have you.”

Satoru was at your chest now, sliding the straps of your top down with slow, teasing movements, his hands gliding over your skin like a predator savoring every inch of you. His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was something darker behind them—a hunger that matched the growing tension in your body.

“Fuck, look at her. She’s practically begging for us,” Satoru teased, rolling one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, making you gasp and squirm beneath him. “Tell me, baby—do you need me to fuck you, or is Suguru making you feel good enough?”

Your body trembled at the question, and Suguru’s fingers stilled for just a moment, savoring the way your walls clenched around him, desperate for more. He let out a low laugh, taking his time to pull out, only to slide back in again with an agonizing slowness.

“She’s dripping, Satoru,” Suguru groaned, grinning at the sight of your flushed, overwhelmed face. “Look at how fucking hard she’s trying to hold it together.”

Satoru chuckled darkly, bringing his face close to yours, lips brushing against your cheek as he muttered, “You’re so adorable when you’re fighting it. Look at you—so fucking close already, just from us touching you.”

Suguru’s thumb circled your clit slowly, just enough to make you squirm, but never enough to push you over the edge. He wanted you to beg. Wanted to see you fall apart for them.

You whimpered, fighting for air, desperate for release, but the way they were playing with you was making everything so much worse. So much better.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Satoru smirked, pushing himself up to tower over you. His cock twitched in his pants as he watched you squirm beneath Suguru’s touch. “You can’t stand it, can you? Want us so bad, but you can’t get what you want.”

Suguru leaned over, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was full of teasing sweetness, just enough to make your head spin, just enough to make you beg for more. He pulled away too soon, smirking at the way you panted, desperate for the release they were withholding.

“Say it,” Suguru murmured, pushing his fingers deeper, angling them just right. “Say you need us.”

Satoru leaned back, watching the scene with dark eyes, enjoying the way you squirmed and moaned beneath them. He was taking in every inch of your body, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.

“She needs us, Suguru,” he said, voice heavy with satisfaction. “She’s been craving this all night.”

Suguru pulled his fingers out slowly, teasing you by brushing his palm over your wetness. You whimpered, shuddering at the sudden emptiness.

“She’s ready,” he muttered, voice husky. “Ready for both of us.”

Satoru’s grin stretched wider, like a wolf circling its prey. “Yeah, she is. She’s been begging for it in her own way.”

Suguru let out a low, guttural laugh, his hand circling your clit again, slower this time, but with a certain purpose. “We’ll give it to her, but not yet. We’re not done enjoying the show.”

Satoru’s hand snaked down your side, gripping your waist as he lowered himself to meet your gaze again. “How does it feel, sweetheart?” he whispered, his voice syrupy sweet with mocking affection. “Being so fucking needy for us, huh? You like the way we’re making you beg?”

You let out a soft, broken moan, your entire body trembling with anticipation, your walls clenching around nothing as you fought to keep it together. You couldn’t take it anymore. Please.

Suguru’s fingers worked faster, pressing harder against you, and Satoru’s hands moved to cup your face gently, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re like this,” he purred, kissing your forehead softly, contrasting the roughness of his words with his tenderness. “So fucking sweet. Letting us take control. Letting us play with you.”

You gasped, finally breaking, and they both knew it—both of them knew you were moments away from falling apart. And when you did, it would be all for them.

“You want it, don’t you?” Suguru asked, his voice low and sultry as his thumb flicked your clit once again, making you arch off the bed. “You want to cum for us, baby?”

“Say it,” Satoru urged, his voice practically a growl now. “Say it, and we’ll give it to you.”

And with that, everything inside you snapped. Your orgasm came crashing down on you, powerful and overwhelming, as you let out a strangled scream. The boys didn’t stop—if anything, they picked up the pace, pushing you through the waves of pleasure, making sure you came hard.

“Good girl,” Satoru muttered, watching you writhe beneath them, helpless in their control. “Such a good girl for us.”

Suguru pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as he kissed you deeply, knowing that he’d just destroyed you and left you wanting more.

You’re barely coherent at this point, mind fogged from the weed, from the heavy petting, from their low voices and careful touches that have you crumbling. Your thighs clench together helplessly as Suguru’s fingers graze higher under the hem of your shorts, and Satoru’s hand cups the side of your neck, thumbing lazily at your fluttering pulse.

“She’s so desperate, huh?” Gojo says to Suguru, almost ignoring you entirely. “You’d think we never touch her.”

Suguru chuckles low and deep, sending shivers down your spine. His hand squeezes your thigh, spreading you open just a little bit more. “Can you blame her?” he says, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “We’ve been so mean tonight… teasing her like this.”

You whimper, hips shifting forward slightly like you’re chasing more, but it just earns you another amused laugh from them both. Satoru leans down to murmur right against your ear, voice a devastating purr.

“Poor baby. You need us that bad?”

You nod frantically, shame lost in the haze of need and want and their overwhelming closeness. Gojo hums and brushes his nose against your temple in mock sympathy.

“So greedy,” Suguru teases, letting his fingers trail just beneath the waistband of your panties now, feather-light, not nearly enough. “Maybe we should teach her some patience, Toru.”

Satoru grins, slow and sharp. “Or maybe we should give her exactly what she’s begging for. She’s being so cute about it.” His free hand slides over your stomach, thumb brushing lazily under the hem of your shirt. “Wouldn’t wanna be mean to our favorite girl.”

Your breath stutters when Suguru hooks his fingers under your panties and slides them down, slow and deliberate. Meanwhile, Satoru coaxes your shirt off, leaving you bare and shivering under their dark, hungry eyes.

They don’t rush. They savor.

Suguru kneels between your legs on the couch, kissing slow, wet paths up your inner thighs, while Satoru tips your chin up, capturing your mouth in a lazy, open-mouthed kiss, letting you taste how much they’re savoring your desperation.

When Suguru finally pushes two thick fingers into you, you keen into Satoru’s mouth, shuddering at how deep he curls them. Suguru just hums approvingly against your thigh.

“God, she’s so wet already,” Suguru says over his shoulder to Satoru, smirking. “Think she’ll break if we both have her?”

Satoru’s eyes light up with a dangerous glint.

“Only one way to find out, right?”

Your head spins at the implication, at the way they’re so casual about ruining you.

Within moments, they’ve manhandled you into position — Suguru behind you, pulling you into his lap with one hand at your hip, the other guiding himself against your entrance, while Satoru kneels in front of you, cupping your face in both hands with a grin that’s half-mocking, half-worshipful.

“Look at you,” Satoru murmurs, thumb stroking over your swollen bottom lip. “So fucking pretty like this.”

And then Suguru sinks into you from behind — slow, relentless — while Satoru watches every twitch of your face, every gasp, every needy whimper

“C’mon, angel,” Satoru coaxes, voice thick with arousal. “You can take us both, right? Our sweet girl.”

Your hips buck back into Suguru involuntarily, making him groan low and rough in your ear. He’s so deep you feel like you’re gonna lose your mind already — and then Satoru is fisting himself in front of you, eyes dark and hooded.

“Open that pretty mouth,” he demands, a teasing grin pulling at the corner of his lips. “Since you’re already being so good for us.”

You don’t even hesitate, whimpering around his cock as he pushes past your lips, letting you sink down onto him.

And just like that — Suguru grinding into you from behind, Satoru groaning low as you hollow your cheeks around him — they sandwich you perfectly between them, grinning at each other over your flushed, overwhelmed form like you’re their favorite little toy.

“Fuck, this is the best idea we’ve ever had,” Satoru groans, his hand tightening in your hair.

“She was made for us,” Suguru mutters against your shoulder, voice thick with lust. “Look at her… fuck, just look.”

Their hands are everywhere — gripping your hips, stroking your jaw, smoothing up your sides. They keep whispering to each other about you, like you’re not even there — admiring you, taunting you, worshipping you all at once.

And you can’t do anything but take it — the two of them working you apart and putting you back together at the same time.

They share a look above you — smug, wicked — before Suguru snaps his hips forward, grinding impossibly deeper inside you, and Satoru lets out a shaky breath as your mouth tightens around him.

“Fuck, she’s perfect,” Suguru grits out against the back of your neck, his hand winding into your hair to yank your head back, exposing your throat to his mouth, teeth scraping against your flushed skin. “Look at her, Toru. Fucking made for us.”

Satoru’s fingers tighten on your jaw, pulling you off his cock just enough for you to gasp a desperate breath before he thrusts back in, slow and deliberate, the tip hitting the back of your throat and making you choke just a little — just enough for him to groan, his hips stuttering forward.

“You love this, huh, angel?” Satoru rasps, voice wrecked, breath ragged. “Our messy little fucktoy.”

You can’t even answer — just a helpless noise as Suguru drives into you, every thick inch stretching you wide open, filling you so good you feel like you’re losing your mind. Your nails dig into Satoru’s thighs for balance, but he just laughs low, grabbing your hair and guiding your pace over his cock.

“That’s it,” he breathes, hips rolling lazily forward. “Be good for us.”

Suguru shifts his angle slightly, and when he grinds his hips against your ass again, you see stars — the fat head of his cock dragging perfectly against that spot inside you that has your legs trembling.

“Feel that?” Suguru growls against your ear, biting down just hard enough to make you whimper. “Feel how easy you give it up for us?”

You moan around Satoru’s cock, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, eyes rolling back as your whole body shakes with pleasure. You’re so full you can barely process it — both of them using you like they’ve always meant to.

“Think she’s gonna cum just from getting stuffed full,” Satoru snickers, pulling out of your mouth just to watch you pant and sob for more, your lips swollen and messy. “You gonna cum, baby? Gonna soak Geto’s cock just from getting fucked like our dirty little roommate?”

“She’s close,” Suguru grunts, slamming into you harder now, his hand slipping between your thighs to rub furious little circles against your clit, sending sparks shooting through your veins. “Feel her fucking squeezing me.”

You’re babbling now — nonsense pleas, whimpering for them, chasing your orgasm blindly. You can’t hold it back — can’t even think — before it’s crashing down on you, your whole body seizing up as you cum with a choked sob, soaking Suguru’s cock, your thighs twitching.

“Fuck, fuck — good girl, that’s it, give it to us,” Suguru snarls, barely holding himself back, fucking you through it with merciless, punishing thrusts.

Satoru is pumping his cock lazily in front of your face, watching you fall apart with a dark, satisfied grin.

“Open up for me again, baby,” he purrs, and when you look up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes, mouth dropping open obediently, he groans low and desperate.

“Fuck— look at you. Fucking ruined.”

You take him back into your mouth, moaning weakly as he thrusts shallowly over your tongue, chasing his own high while Suguru pounds into you with bruising force, his breath hot against your ear.

“Where you want it, princess?” Suguru pants, one hand squeezing your hips so tight you’re sure it’ll leave bruises. “Want me to cum inside you? Fill you up like a good little cumdump?”

You nod frantically around Satoru’s cock, sobbing with need, and it’s the last straw for both of them.

Suguru groans brokenly as he spills deep inside you, hips grinding hard against your ass, cock pulsing as he empties himself into your already messy pussy. The sensation of being so full, so claimed, has you moaning even louder, your body shaking violently.

Satoru pulls out of your mouth at the last second, jerking himself frantically before painting your fucked-out face with thick ropes of cum, groaning your name as his release coats your lips, your cheeks, even dripping down onto your tits.

They’re both panting, staring down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen — flushed, ruined, marked by both of them.

Suguru pulls out with a filthy wet sound, cum dribbling down your thighs, and Satoru immediately leans down, licking a stray drip from the corner of your mouth before pressing a filthy, claiming kiss against your swollen lips.

“God, you’re dangerous,” Satoru murmurs, grinning breathlessly.

Suguru laughs low, gathering you carefully into his arms like you’re something precious, despite how thoroughly they just used you.

“And you’re ours now, baby,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “Hope you know that.”

[pearlessance]

I'll Crawl Home To Her

summary: all the ways joel miller loves his pretty, little wife. and all the ways she loves him right back.

pairing: husband!joel miller x wife!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, traditional gender roles, pussy eating, vaginal sex, semi-public, exhibitionism kinda, dom/sub undertones, car sex, biting, dirty talk, joel is a certified munch, feminine reader, a whole bunch of tooth-rotting fluff

wc: 4.1k

note: something soft and sweet, tysm for reading, let me know what you think! <3

[masterlist] [read on AO3!]

Being Joel Miller's wife was, in short, marital bliss.

He loved taking care of you, and it showed in everything he did.

Joel always woke up earlier than you. On days he had to work, his alarm would rouse you just enough that you’d roll over to his side of the bed the moment he vacated it, soaking up his warmth and his scent, snuggling into his pillow. He’d kiss your forehead and tuck you in tight, and you’d fall asleep seconds after he whispered, “Have a good day, baby girl. Love you.”

And once you did finally roll out of bed, sunlight leaking in through the kitchen blinds, you’d find a fresh pot of coffee and your favorite mug sitting on the counter.

He worked long hours, but you could never fault him for it. He was doing it even in his old age to grant you the freedom to do any and everything you desired. Supporting you in all your endeavors no matter how fleeting.

When you’d picked up the hobby of gardening, Joel had taken you to three different greenhouses in one weekend and helped you till a section of the backyard to plant your seeds. And later that week, he’d come home with the back of his truck full of pretty white bricks to outline your garden with.

You’d mentioned once with your hands covered in suds how the dishes were your least favorite chore. You hated how they piled up so quickly, hated leaving them in the sink, how they felt never-ending.

“I can do the dishes, darlin’,” he’d said. “Just leave them for me an’ I’ll do ‘em after work every day.”

You loved him for the offer but refused. He already spoiled you enough as it is. You couldn’t imagine watching him standing at the sink every day after working for ten hours. “Are you crazy? No, I’d never let you do that.”

“Don’t bother me none,” he insisted. “S’only fair, considerin’ how good dinner is every night.”

The compliment made you flush, but still, you stood firm. Even when he’d come up behind you with a dish towel in hand, ready to take your place. You’d slapped his hands away. “Joel, no. Let me. Please.”

“Alright, fine,” he said, setting the towel on the counter. His hands found a new way to occupy themselves, though. Slipping beneath your skirt, squeezing at the softness of your thighs. “But at least let me get my desert.”

He’d had you bent over the countertop that night with your panties around your knees. He’d hummed his I love you’s against your spit-soaked clit in the middle of the kitchen and you’d felt like the most spoiled girl in the world. 

Even more so when he’d come home from work early the next day. He and Tommy walked through the front door with a brand new dishwasher in tow and spent all night assembling it.

Once, you’d been late coming back from the grocery store. Janet, the older woman who lived two houses down from you and Joel, had been berating the cashier for not accepting an expired coupon.

Confrontation had never been your strong suit, but it felt less like conflict and more like second nature to step in and defend a teenage girl just trying to do her job. You attempted to reason with Janet, explaining that it wasn’t the cashier's fault, that the use of her coupon perhaps just wasn’t meant to be. You’d even offered to pay for her entire shopping haul if it meant a break for the young girl. 

Of course, this wasn’t what Janet had wanted to hear, and she instead turned her anger on you. Your cheeks had warmed in embarrassment as she yelled your name aloud for all the other customers to hear, telling you to ‘keep your nose where it belonged.’ 

The whole interaction had frazzled you. But more than that, it had made you late. And while being screamed at so publically had certainly thrown you off kilter, the straw that broke the camel’s back was seeing Joel’s truck in the driveway when you got home. 

He had mentioned once how much he loved having someone to come home to. Had explained how seeing you standing there with a smile on your face waiting for him on the front porch every day made the long hours and unbearable heat worth it. But because of Janet, you weren’t there. 

Joel, your Joel—who always takes care of you, who would do anything for you, who puts your happiness above his own, the most selfless man you’ve ever known—had come home to an empty house. Worked twelve hours beneath the Texas sun to come home to absolute silence.

It didn’t matter that you’d left a note on the kitchen table, you’d meant to get back before he could ever read it.

The tears had come quickly. The embarrassment, the frustration, the anger you felt on that young girl’s behalf, came rushing to the surface all at once.

He’d left the door unlocked for you, like usual, and the moment you stepped inside you could hear the familiar, heavy sound of his boots on the wooden floor. “Hey, sweetheart. How was your—?”

Before he could ask any questions you’d flung yourself into his arms, needing comfort, needing to show him how much you loved him. To prove to him that you weren’t home but you wanted to be, more than anything. “I’m so sorry,” was all you managed to choke out. 

Joel, who valued your safety above all else, immediately stiffened yet pulled you closer, wrapping his big arms around your shoulders, his warm hand splayed across the small of your back. “Hey, hey—shh, what happened? Talk to me, sweet girl. C’mon.” 

He cradled your face in his palm, holding you gently as if you were the most precious thing because, to him, you are. He wiped your tears away with the rough pad of his thumb and listened as you explained, “I—I wasn’t here waiting for you! I’m sorry—I…I tried to come home as fast—as fast as I could but—!”

“S’okay, baby. I know you’ll always come home to me, alright? I’m not mad. Could never be mad at you, y’know that.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, to the arch of your brow, to the bridge of your nose. He rubbed soothing circles into your skin until your tears slowed and your breaths found their normal cadence once again. And then, because he knows you, he asked, “What really happened?”

And you tell him. Every detail. And Joel stands there, holding you, listening with bated breath. 

When you finish, he pulls his shoulders back with a newfound objective. “M’gonna go talk to Lee,” he said.

Janet’s husband was a good man, you knew. Similar to Joel in the way of being a nurturing sort of husband. A hard-working man with never a bad thing to say about anyone. “You don’t have to,” you tell Joel. “What she did was wrong but I’d rather she takes it out on me than a kid at their first job.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t just let it go,” he said. “She disrespected my wife. Not the kinda thing I can turn the other cheek to.” 

“Joel—don’t…don’t—” You weren’t sure what you were asking. His insistence didn’t surprise you in the least, but you didn’t want to start anything that would disrupt the peace the two of you’d spent so much time cultivating.

He seems to understand you despite your lack of vocal explanation. “Just gonna have a word with him, sweetheart. That’s all.”

Before he walked out the door, he asked very specifically for the Mediterranean chicken dish you’d made for him last week. Which was strange only because he never asked for anything specific; he simply asked you to cook whatever you felt like, and insisted that somehow you knew his cravings better than he himself did. 

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later, as you put the chicken in the oven that you realized he’d done it to distract you, to take your mind off the situation at hand while he went and handled it. Helping you without even being in the same room.

When he came home, Joel answered all of your questions at the dinner table and said that he and Lee had shared a beer and talked it over. Warned you to expect an apology the next time you and Janet crossed paths. 

And sure enough, that weekend there was a knock on the front door. 

Joel stood behind you, a looming, protective presence at your back. A safety net as your neighbor apologized for her actions and offered a plate of chocolate chip cookies as amends.

You forgave her, of course. Even invited her in so the two of you could talk about it over a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade on the back porch. She compliments you on the roses growing in your garden and you clip a couple off to send her home with.

Problem solved. Amends made. 

All because of Joel. 

Your closest friends even teased you about it from time to time, making jokes about how spoiled you are, and about how much he cares for you.

When you’re out having a girls' night with the three of them, you share laughs and chips and salsa and have one too many glasses of wine. They all discuss sharing an Uber, but you interject to say, “No worries. Joel will make sure we get home safe.”

And they tease you about that, too, telling you, “You’ve got that big man wrapped tight around your little finger.”

But you’re not wrong, and you suppose your friends aren’t, either. Because he shows up at the diner ten minutes after you send him a text message, and deals with four drunk young women with such grace it’s almost astonishing. Even pulls a soft, secret smile as he listens to the group of you giggle together at something that’s probably not nearly as funny to him.

You asked him about it later, about that gentle amusement he wore, and he explained simply, “What makes you happy makes me happy, darlin.’” 

And you understand exactly what he means. Understand how your happiness, your frustrations, your love is mirrored perfectly in his heart. Because you feel it, too.

It’s why whenever he says he’s craving something, whether it’s fast food or some elaborate dish, you’ll always find a way to get it onto his dinner plate that night. It’s why you make an extra stop during grocery shopping to get that local ground coffee he likes. 

He’d said once how much he loves the way pale blue looks against your skin, and every time you shop for clothes you find yourself gravitating towards the shade. 

You do his laundry and put a towel in the dryer every time he steps in the shower so it’s warm when he gets out. You teach him about skincare and he sits dutifully in bed every Sunday night with a face mask on and a pore strip on his nose. You schedule his doctor and dentist appointments and have never once been successful at fighting off your wide grin as you tell the receptionist on the phone that you’re his wife and they refer to you as Mrs. Miller for the remainder of the call.

Give and take, push and pull—the two of you fit seamlessly together. You take care of him, and he takes care of you, and whatever was left each day you figured out together.

So, when you make your way to the kitchen one early morning to see his lunch still in the fridge, untouched, and his coffee mug in the sink and not the dishwasher, you know something must have gone awry. Something to disrupt his morning routine.

You find your phone only to read a text message he’d left you at six this morning. 

Good morning, sweet girl. Slept through my alarm, might have to stay over today to finish. Love you.

Joel’s an independent man, you know. Perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And you know he’ll likely buy lunch for himself and Tommy, likely some gas station pizza and a soda. But you don’t like the idea of him needing to do that. Don’t like the idea of him eating anything you don’t make for him just the way he likes.

So, you spend the morning getting all dolled up. You wear that pale blue sundress he likes. You curl your hair, coat your lashes in mascara, and spray that expensive, vanilla-scented perfume he got you for your birthday last year. 

And then you grab his lunch from the fridge and make your way to the construction site. You find Joel’s truck easily and park beside it. You’re not sure why, but being here makes your heart race. 

You’ve met the majority of the guys on his crew, and they all know who you are. Countless times you’ve forced Joel to bring in containers full of cookies and pastries you’d bake the night before to share. He’s even brought a couple of them home for dinner before, and invited their wives and kids to fill your home with a little extra love and laughter for the evening.

But for some reason, this feels…different. Like you’re encroaching on their territory, invading space that doesn’t belong to you.

They’re working inside some big structure that has only the framing and roof finished, wooden beams allotting space for each room. You can hear them shouting at each other and the sound of hammers striking nails into place. Somewhere a little further into the building, there’s the mechanical whirring of a drill, but you see no face you recognize.

One of the younger-looking men up in the rafters notices you first. “Well, hello there pretty little lady. Did you need some help?”

You open your mouth to speak, to ask where you might find Joel or even Tommy. But then—

“Dean, you look at my wife like that again and it’ll be the last time you have eyes to look at anyone.” Joel rests his hand on the small of your back as he saddles up to your side. You turn to face him, and can’t help your smirk upon discovering the intimidating scowl on his face that he directs to Dean. “Understand?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry about that, Mrs. Miller.”

“It’s alright, Dean. You didn’t know,” you insist. But Joel narrows his eyes even further and doesn’t stop until you playfully hit his bicep. “It’s fine.”

His expression softens considerably when he looks at you, deep frown turning into a warm smile instead. “Hey, baby girl.” Joel pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours, kissing you softly. Nothing out of the ordinary for him, nothing you don’t expect. But what you don’t expect is for his hand on the small of your back to sink lower, grabbing a lewd fist full of your ass.

The surprise has your lips parting, but Joel only takes it to his advantage, tongue slipping between them to glide smoothly against yours.

When he finally pulls away your face is flushed and he wears that satisfied smirk like armor. He glances up at Dean, whose ears are now red-hot even though he tries very hard to pretend like he’s busy. “I’m taking a twenty. Be back in a bit.”

He takes your hand in his and leads you back outside, and once he opens the passenger door of your truck he’s quick to put his hands on your hips and lift you to help you inside. 

You expect him to close the door and round the front of the truck to get in behind the wheel, but he doesn’t. Before you’re even able to turn and tuck your legs inside, he’s pushing you back against the leather seats and sliding his calloused hands up your thighs beneath your dress. “Joel,” you say, but you don’t attempt to stop him. 

The passenger door’s propped open, just enough to shield him from view as he stands behind it. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties. He tugs them down and peppers open-mouthed kisses across the exposed skin of your chest, teeth nipping at your cleavage. But then he’s biting you—hard, and pressure pools low in your belly as his tongue flicks over the hurt to soothe. “Always take such good care of me. Had such a rough morning but seein’ you changes it all around.”

You’re giggling uncontrollably, overwhelmed by his sudden need, basking beneath the warmth of his praise. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the ends. “We shouldn’t,” you say. “Someone will see. You’re crazy, old man, do you know that?”

“Yeah, crazy for you.” Normally you’d scold him some more, accuse him of being the absolute cheesiest man that you’ve ever met. But you don’t have the chance before he’s pushing your knees apart and pressing those hot, wet kisses to the inside of your thighs. “Can front all you want, but I’m not dumb, baby. Think you got all dressed up and came all this way for nothing? Nuh-uh.”

This hadn’t been your intention in the slightest, but now that you’re here, and his head’s between your thighs… “I just brought your lunch!” 

Joel smirks. “Fuckin’ right you did.”

You have to cover your mouth to quiet your laughter. “But…seriously. Aren’t you hungry?”

“Starving, sweetheart,” he says. “Now spread your legs.”

You do. Of course you do. 

And Joel makes quick work of you, wasting not a second before his tongue slides through your wet heat with expert precision. He hooks his arms around your thighs and drags you to the end of the leather seat, pressing his face against you. Your clit pulses with need and he takes care of that ache for you, too. Sucking it into his mouth, lapping at you with the flat of his tongue, ratcheting your pleasure to an almost unbearable place.

It doesn’t take long before your back is arching off the leather, hands tugging desperately at his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You’re whimpering his name and he’s letting out these deep, throaty groans that have your toes curling in your high-top sneakers.

In just a couple minutes he has you right there—right on the edge, so close to your orgasm you can taste it, and then he pulls away. You’re whining immediately, desperate whimpers falling for your lips. 

“Shh. S’alright, baby girl. I’m comin',’” Joel tells you. And then you watch through bleary, tear-filled eyes as he undoes his tool belt and sets it on the floor of his truck. 

The clink of his belt buckle reverberates through your ears, and you whimper again but before you can start begging he’s got his cock in his hand and he’s pressing the big, heavy tip into you. “Oh my God,” you cry, breath stuck in your lungs. 

It feels so good—he always does. He says, “C’mere, baby,” before gripping the front of your dress and pulling you up towards him. He hooks your legs around his hips and sinks into you slow, real slow. Gives you time to adjust to the size of him, time for your pussy to make room for it. He kisses you hard, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see the men on his team working thirty feet away. 

Your heart races in your chest and you think about warning him again that this might be a bad idea, but then he’s sinking his cock alllll the way into you, pushing against that sweet spot inside, and everything else fades into nothing. 

There’s nothing but Joel—your gentle, safe, loving husband, who always takes care of you and always will.

He pulls out slowly, moaning low, and then slams back into you. Again and again and again. He sets such a punishing pace that your eyes roll back and you have to sink your nails into his shoulders just to ground yourself, his gray cotton t-shirt soft and familiar beneath your fingertips. “Fuck, fuck, Joel.”

“Pretty pussy’s squeezin’ me so fuckin’ good, baby,” he says. “Know just what to give her. Know just what she needs.”

You can feel your slick coating the inside of your thighs, your orgasm creeping right back up your spine as if it’d never faded in the first place. He squeezes your thighs hard enough to bruise but it only brings you higher, gets you closer. Your clit pulses and you swear you can feel his cock throbbing inside you in tandem, a perfect man made just for you.

His hips slam into you, bringing you closer and closer and closer, until finally— “Joel, Joel, I—oh my god, shit—!”

“Ohh, sweet girl…you gonna cum for me? Hm? Feels that good? Needed it that bad, didn’t you,” he says, and it’s not a question because he just knows.

“Yes, yes, please—Joel, I’m gonna—!”

He takes a hand and grips the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him. “I know, baby, s’alright. Give it to me. Yeah, that’s it. There you go.”

Your orgasm hits you hard, makeup smearing as your eyes water. Every nerve ending flares on end, euphoria washing over you and pulling your senses taut. “Cum with me, cum with me, oh god.”

He fucks you through it, and it only takes a couple more meaningful strokes before his hips are stuttering. Joel presses his forehead to yours and kisses you gently, spilling inside you with his cock pressed into you as deep as he can get. He cums with you and the words that leave his mouth as he reaches the summit give you goosebumps. “Love you, sweet girl. Love you so fuckin’ much.”

When he finally comes down, Joel’s panting breaths are in perfect sync with yours. He kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. And when you start giggling he breaks out that soft, gentle smile and it turns your insides to mush.

You wince as he slowly pulls out of you and stuffs himself back into his jeans, pulling on the leather of his belt and fastening it back into place.

“Still have a couple minutes before you have to get back,” you say, cheeks warming as he helps you slide your panties back up your legs. “You really should eat something. Like, actual food. Sustenance.”

“Oh, I’m plenty satisfied,” he jokes. But when you unzip his cooler and sift through it, pulling out the turkey, tomato, and cheese sandwich you’d made him last night, he takes it from you with greedy hands. 

He eats quickly and you watch him in awe, unbelieving that he’s real, and much less that you’d somehow convinced him to love you. A perfect man, all your own, so beautiful and kind and selfless. You don’t think anyone’s loved anymore more than you love Joel.

Playfully, he taps the tip of your nose as he wolfs down the last bite of his sandwich. “What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“Just you,” is your answer.

“Me?”

“About how much I love you.”

His smile widens and he reaches his hand out, cradling your face, running his thumb along your cheekbone. “I don’t deserve you, sweetheart.”

You press your face into his hand, bottom lip jutting out. A part of you wants to beg him to come home early, to use a sick day, and hold you for hours. But instead, you kiss the palm of his hand and jump out of the truck, gravel crunching beneath your feet. “You should probably get back. Don’t want you staying any later than you have to.”

Joel lets out a heavy sigh but nods his head in agreement. He closes the door of his truck and opens the door to your car instead. “Get home safe, alright? I’ll try and get this done as soon as I can. You want me to pick something up after for dinner? Kinda cravin’ pizza.”

“Let me know when you’re leaving the site and I’ll call and put in an order for pickup. Get one for Tommy too so he can take it with him. Wanna make sure he eats. Sound good?”

He kisses you hard and nods. “Sounds real good. See you at home, baby girl.”

“I’ll be waiting on the porch,” you promise.

Like you always are. Like you always will be.

[stylesispunk]

"I only see daylight"

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: What is waiting for you after life ends? Joel woke up to a life he had spent missing this whole time. You are there, Sarah is there, and a baby too. w.c: 1,7k (tiny baby) warnings: mentions of blood, crying, and mentions of an afterlife. I don't know if you believe in that but I like to think about it.

a/n: I don't know if you could consider this a fix-it fic, but I hope you do because I love this little idea I had the other day. I know it's short, but I have requests to work in and more "Blind faith" chapters to work in. Happy reading. Please remember to reblog and comment. I appreciate them very much.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“Joel…Can I ask you something?” Ellie asked, clearing her throat.

He kept his eyes on the road ahead of them but gave a small nod. “Shoot.”

“Did you… I mean, before all this. Did you ever… you know. Love someone? Like, for real?”

Joel’s grip on his backpack tightened. For a moment, he wasn’t walking on that road anymore. He was somewhere else. Back when he was younger, with his baby girl in his arms and a woman’s laugh in his ears.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I did.”

Ellie looked over at him, surprised by the weight in his voice.

“Who was she?”

He hesitated, then let out a breath. “Her name was… well, she came into my life the day Sarah was born. Her mother… she didn’t stick around. But she did. God, she did. Never asked for anything. Just… showed up with a smile and a cup of hospital coffee. Held Sarah like she was her own. She was her mother and she was my wife.”

Joel smiled faintly, a ghost of a smile. “We were together for years. Raised Sarah, built a life in Austin. Didn’t even get around to getting’ married. World ended a month before that.”

Ellie was quiet, watching him. “What happened to her?”

Joel’s eyes clouded. “The outbreak happened.”

He didn’t say more. He didn’t have to.

He still couldn’t say out loud how you died on his arms two days after Sarah.

How the smell of fresh coffee that filled the kitchen at home became the smell of blood sticking on his hands while he tried to keep you alive.

The snow fell fiercely outside the lodge. Joel’s breath ragged and shallow.

He couldn’t take the pain anymore. He couldn’t survive another punch against his face. He was dying.

He could barely see Ellie, screaming some feet away from him. Pleading.

“Joel, please get up.” “Joel, please” she choked.

Oh, his baby girl. He wanted to swallow all the pain, but his broken bones and body could barely bear the pain.

One push, one try. But something sharp on his neck stole his lasts breaths away.

His vision blurred. The world dimmed. In those mere last moments, last seconds. He saw them.

Ellie crawling to him.

But he also saw you. Beautiful as ever, eyes wet, reaching for him.

And Sarah just as she was that night in Austin, her smile breaking his heart.

Joel tried to speak, but no words came.

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

Then, nothing.

All went black.

For a moment, or perhaps forever, there was nothing. No pain. No cold. No Ellie’s voice calling his name. Just silence.

The soft chirping of morning birds. The faint hum of a ceiling fan. And the distant smell of fresh coffee.

Joel’s eyes fluttered open.

His breathing was steady, his body didn’t hurt. No blood. No searing pain in his ribs. No snow or cracked lodge ceiling above him.

Instead, a familiar ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, and pale morning light streamed through the curtains of his room.

At home, in Austin.

He sat up abruptly, a cold sweat clinging to his skin.

The bed side next to him was made, your side, neatly tucked like you always did. A glass of water sat untouched on your nightstand. The clock on the wall read 7:14 AM. The same perfume he had never got to forget lingered on your pillow, soft and warm, and so goddamn real Joel felt his chest tighten.

His hand shot up to his face — searching for cuts, bruises, something. But there was nothing. His hair was damp with sweat, but his fingers came away clean.

He swallowed hard, heart thudding in his ears.

What the hell was this?

Joel swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet pressing against cool wooden floors. He could hear movement in the kitchen, the gentle clink of a spoon against a mug, the scrape of a chair.

His throat closed up.

It was you, your laugh echoing through the house.

Soft. Carefree. Real.

And for a moment, he was terrified to move, terrified that if he stood and crossed that room, it would disappear — like every other goddamn thing in his life had.

But the pull was too strong.

Joel pushed open the bedroom door.

The house was just as he remembered it. The old photographs lining the hallway. Sarah’s soccer trophies. The faded denim jacket slung over the back of a chair. Everything untouched by fire, or blood, or the passage of time.

And then, there you were.

Standing in the kitchen, back to him, pouring coffee into two mugs. One of them — his old favorite. The one with the chipped rim.

You turned as if you felt his eyes on you.

That same smile. That same light in your eyes.

“Morning, stranger,” you teased, unaware of the storm brewing in his chest.

Joel couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled you into him, arms wrapping around your waist so tight it made you laugh, the mug nearly slipping from your hand.

“Whoa! Easy, cowboy,” you chuckled against his shoulder. “Bad dream?”

His hand cradled the back of your head, burying his face in your hair, drinking in your scent, the warmth of your body.

“I… I don’t know,” he rasped, voice thick.

“Hey,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I’ve been right here, Joel. I’m not going anywhere.”

And when you kissed him , soft, steady, grounding, it felt like everything broken inside him finally came home.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours for a beat longer, eyes shut, breathing you in like a man starved. But then, something shifted. His hand, still resting against your waist, slid down — and froze.

A gentle curve. A fullness where there hadn’t been one before.

Joel’s brow furrowed, his eyes snapping open. He pulled back just enough to look down, and there it was.

Your belly, round and unmistakably swollen beneath the soft fabric of your, his worn t-shirt. His mouth parted, but no sound came out.

You followed his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Hey,” you murmured, resting your hand over his. “Don’t look so spooked.”

Joel swallowed hard, eyes flicking from your face to your stomach, then back again. His heart thundered in his chest, a thousand questions fighting for room.

And then you said it, soft and calm, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Ellie is right inside here.”

Joel’s breath caught.

That name.

Ellie.

The word carved through him like a lightning strike. His mind, already fragile, started to crack along the seams. He stared at you, at the tender way your hand cradled your belly, at the glow in your eyes, like this had always been your life.

“Ellie?” he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

You smiled, brushing a thumb along his jaw. “Yeah?” you nodded, looking a bit worry because of his state. “Remember doctor says she’s stubborn already.” You chuckled, your eyes shimmering with a mix of joy and mischief. “Wonder where she gets that from.”

Joel staggered back a half-step, running a trembling hand through his hair. The room spun. A wave of warmth and memory and heartbreak crashing into him all at once.

He remembered Ellie. How couldn’t he? He remembered snow and blood and a lodge floor.

But here, here she wasn’t a girl with a mouthful of trouble. She was…

His and yours.

For real.

A future that had never existed. A life stolen from him, given back in pieces.

Joel’s vision blurred. His knees buckled slightly, and you caught his arm.

“Joel,” you whispered, concern flashing across your face. “Hey — hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

He clung to you like a man drowning.

Joel clung to you like a man drowning, his face buried in the curve of your neck, your hand stroking the back of his head, steady and familiar. You felt his breath hitch, the tremble in his arms. Whatever nightmare had clawed at him, it was still lingering in his bones.

Then, he heard the footsteps.

Light, quick steps padding down the hallway. The soft creak of the floorboard outside the room.

“Dad?” a young voice called.

Joel stiffened. His head jerked up.

And there she was.

Sarah.

Alive. Whole.

Framed by the doorway in her faded hoodie and denim shorts, backpack slung over one shoulder, a little messy ponytail, like she always rushed through it in the mornings.

“Dad, Mom — it’s getting late for school,” she groaned, rolling her eyes like any other teenager. “I already saw uncle Tommy waiting out front, and if I have to listen to him sing along to the radio one more time, I swear I’ll jump outta the truck.”

Joel’s breath punched out of him like he’d been hit. His lips trembled.

“Baby girl…” he rasped.

Sarah blinked, confused. “You okay, Dad? You look kinda… weird.”

You smiled gently, your heart cracking a little at Joel’s expression, and stepped toward Sarah, brushing a hand down her arm. “Hey, sweetheart — give your dad a second, okay? He’s just… he had a rough night.”

Sarah sighed, the way only a 12-year-old could. “Ugh, bad dreams again? Should’ve told him not to eat chili dogs that late.”

Joel let out a strangled laugh, a sound halfway between a sob and a chuckle.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sarah’s temple. “Uncle Tommy’s taking you today. Go grab your stuff, and I’ll be out in a sec.”

Sarah groaned but turned, heading back toward the hall. “Tell him I call dibs on the front seat!” she shouted over her shoulder.

The moment she disappeared around the corner, Joel collapsed back to your arms, his hand dragging down your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

“You’re safe, Joel. You’re home.” You promised as you caressed his neck with your fingertips

His eyes, wet and wide, met yours. “Is this… is this real?” His voice cracked like it was too fragile to ask. “You. Sarah. Baby Ellie. Is this…?”

You leaned, pressing your forehead to his.

“It’s real,” you promised softly. “It’s ours.”

And for the first time in years, in decades, Joel Miller cried.

He didn’t know what he had done to deserve to see this light again.

But whoever had mercy on him. Gave him the chance to live a second life in daylight.

With you, Sarah, and a baby, Ellie.

[inbabylontheywept]

Kartchner Caverns

The first time I traveled to Tucson I was in a car full of zooted children. I would've preferred being one of those children, but alas, any medication that makes me sleep also makes me sleepwalk. And after an incident where I tried to climb out of the car while it was still going sixty (thank God for seatbelts), I was condemned to a childhood of car trip sobriety: No more poor-man's time travel. No more ambien. One less morally ambiguawesome parenting decision from my crazy-ass dad.

I was talking with him when it happened.

I can't remember exactly what we were talking about - something to do with our final destination in Mexico. But at some point, we woke up my little brother. 

(Nothing good happens from waking the dreamer. Best case scenario, the dream ends. Worst case, it doesn't.)

I remember starting when I felt one of his small cold hands reach up to grab my shoulder. Our dad did the same, and it jerked the car a little bit - startling someone whose hands are on the steering wheel has its risks. Dad and I both turned to look at him, but he wasn't even looking at us. He was leaning over the console, staring into the red and purple sunset ahead, watching the rolling skyline of Tucson like it was drowning in dreams. Like he was drowning in dreams. 

We waited for him to speak. It took a while. Normal social conventions don't apply to people when they're unconscious. The fact that he could talk was just some broken line code in the fabric of the world. 

"Wow," he said at long last. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" my dad replied. And my little brother shook his head like he just heard the silliest thing in the world. 

"It's terrible," he said. "Awful. Is Mexico always like this?" 

"We're still in America," my dad said back. 

My little brother squinted into the sunset, doubt and derision etched into his face. After a few seconds, both emotions softened, and he nodded in wonder. 

"Eagle feathers," he said, chuckling softly. Like he'd just solved some clever little riddle. Then he fell like an angel into something deeper than sleep. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

(There is a word for angels that fall.)

𓆙𓆙𓆙

The second time I went to Tucson, I hid from the sun. 

You'd be surprised how easy it is to do down there. Society accommodates it in ways you just won't find anywhere else. When it's 109 outside with single digit humidity, of course you stay indoors. Of course the outdoor markets open at 6 pm, and of course they don't close until 11. Of course. You make the sun mean enough, and everyone becomes a vampire. 

So I roamed the streets at night, kicking up red gravel, watching coyotes wander in between the sea of strip malls. Strip malls are such an Arizonan atrocity. Nobody bothers to build up because there’s nothing to be gained from density. The city will never be walkable, because the problem isn’t infrastructure. It's the sun. And you can't solve the sun, so you might as well lean into driving. Mash the whole city flat and crawl through the dust like rattlers. 

(I met a man once, by the canals, that said the strip malls were some sort of American curse upon the inheritors of Johnny Appleseed. There's one God in this world, he said, and it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. So this is our hell.)

Still. It made the days long down there. Lurking at night and hiding all day gives you something like cabin fever. I needed something to do outside. Something that was outside, but also, somehow, inside. What's inside and outside at the same time? What kind of klein-flask ouroboros nonsense fits that bill?

Kartchner caverns. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I wouldn't say the caves were like walking into Dante's hell - more like finishing the journey. At some point in my life, I'd blown past limbo, lust, gluttony, greed, and anger. I'd spent two decades plus change living in the fires of heresy. Every layer past would only get colder. 

And each step into that cave did. 

My tour guide and psychopomp was a friendly old man. Familiar in the way that all old people feel familiar to me. I view the world more as a pile of metaphors. He viewed it primarily as water-soluble minerals. 

It was a good work dynamic. 

"These here," he said, gesturing to a long, slender series of impossibly frail stalactites, "are called soda straws."

They were beautiful. I can wax poetic at the keyboard, but in real life, my exclamation of wonder is primarily Hot Damn.

"Hot damn," I said, and he nodded good naturedly. 

"They're pretty fun aren't they? Took a few eons to make 'em but I think it was worth the wait."

I was charmed by the way he talked. I knew it was just a fluke of tenses, but there was something funny about the way he described them - as if he personally oversaw each of the dainty little spires. We went further, and he pointed out more formations as we came across them. 

"Behold!" he said just a few feet further. "Fried eggs!" 

And I had to admit: There were fried eggs. 

"Behold!" he said further still. "A shield!"

And lo, there was a shield. It didn't look terribly shieldlike, but who knows - maybe he made the shields first and got better as he went along. The eggs were beautiful.

We kept walking, deeper, and deeper into the cave. At the surface, it had been hot enough for my sweat to dry into a stinging white powder. Down there it was cold enough to see my breath. The feeling of descending into hell was replaced with the feeling of being swallowed by some ancient, fossilized snake. 

"We call this serpent-stone," he said, gesturing to an expanse of wall. 

And then all I could see was the snake that was swallowing me. 

Now, I want to bring something up right about now. At this point, you might be tempted to write off the unease that I was feeling as claustrophobia. Which would make sense - caves unsettle a lot of people. But not me. I'm borderline claustrophilic. When I was a child, I didn't feel comfortable reading until I was wedged somewhere. Behind a shelf, or in a cabinet, or even underneath the beanbag my parents had intended for sitting. Those were my happy places. I liked being crammed into tight spaces. 

I did not like that cave. 

The section of serpent-stone narrowed the further we went. The room started off maybe six feet wide, but eventually it narrowed down. First to five, then four, then three. Two. And it didn’t stop at one. 

The old man put me in front at that point. Said that if I got stuck, he could just push me forward. Didn't occur to me until I'd gone another hundred feet forward, sideways, that maybe getting dragged out would be better. But I was strangely reluctant to bring it up. I’d already let myself get cornered. There was nothing to be gained from letting him know my thoughts. 

But the only way to keep them secret was by going forward. So I poured myself through the crack, slick as slip.  

There's a grain to the scales of serpent-stone, both in the shape of the formations and in the texture of the individual pieces. They're metamorphic, but there's enough sediment left to ‘em that they have a grain. They bite when you go one way, and slide when you go the other. It felt like I was ratcheting myself in. Even if I could slip forward more, I didn't think I could go back. Not without wearing myself down into something skinless and screaming. 

Water began to pool up in sections. It was cold enough to avoid the stink that still waters normally carry, but things stranger than algae festered in the waters beneath my feet. The puddles felt thick, almost slimy. A dozen steps later I saw little ropes of the stuff trickling down my feet. 

Eventually, it got so narrow I couldn't turn my head. I could still hear the old man behind me, but only through little things - the occasional sharp inhale, or steps just an eighth of a beat off from my own. But never words. I remember stopping at one point, just to get pushed, just to know he was there. And he refused. All I heard for fifteen minutes was his breathing behind me. 

He'd called my bluff. There was nowhere to go but forward. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don't know why it took so long to get dark down there. I wasn't carrying a flashlight, and if the old man had been carrying one, I'd have seen it bob with his steps. There was a sort of soft glow to everything but that had faded hour by hour. Eventually it didn't matter that I couldn't turn my head sideways - I wouldn't have been able to see the man if he'd been two inches in front of me. I walked, and I walked, and I walked, and just when I was about to get stuck for real - stuck in a way where I wouldn't be able to step forward, where I'd have to be pushed (or dragged back along the sharpness of the scales) - I popped out of the serpent stone crevasse like a cork from a bottle. 

Plunk. 

I can't tell you the relief that I felt at that moment. It didn't matter that I didn't know where I was, or how I got there. I'd never been claustrophobic in my life, but at that moment, I couldn't stand even the proximity of the crevice. I scrambled forward, stumbling over the rough cave floor, desperate and eager to find the next wall. To get some sense of where I was. 

I never did. Even as I calmed down, even as the relief of being free of that infernal vice sat upon me like a crown, I never found another wall. Anywhere. I walked until fear made me crawl, as low and blind as any worm. I crawled until my pants tore and my knees bled and my spine ached. 

And I found nothing. 

When the vastness of the space truly sank in, when I realized that leaving that first wall had been a mistake, I turned back. But some choices can't be unmade. There were no walls. Not anymore. No matter how far I crawled, how hard I tried, there was no end. There was nothing but perfect darkness, broken stone, and endless snaking trickles of cold cavern water. 

I dipped a finger in one of the rivulets. Just to feel it. Just to ground myself in something. I felt the waters slither past, and I found something like sight in their motion. 

Water always goes down. Whatever else I lacked down here in the stone, in that moment, I knew up and down. And for the first time in hours, I had a choice. A real choice. No instinct or panic or too late realizations: Up or down. 

I went down. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I’d visited a rope factory once. Watched the threads dance and spin and weave into something mighty. I got a blind man’s sense of that from my trickle. I felt it meet more of its kind, braiding into them like thread. I liked pretending it was still my rivulet, but eventually, I had to admit it was lost in the mess. Picking out one thread from a rope would be easy, compared to picking out one trickle from a river. 

Funny how water can drown in itself. 

The first contaminant to the water was iron. I could smell it in the air -  strong as blood. It should have unsettled me, but I’d smelled water like that before. My grandpas well-water stained everything it touched rusty red. His sinks, his showers, his fields. Even his teeth. He was wealthy enough that he could've wiped the stains off decades back, but he told me once that he liked the way it made other people uncomfortable. The way it reminded everyone who saw him smile that by sacrament or soil, they too drank of god. 

The next contaminant was the thick water from before. Apparently, the stagnant pools weren’t as still as I’d thought. Somehow, over strange eons, they too could seep through the stone and make their way into this deep river. It was scentless, but I could feel it catch around my ankles on some steps. It seemed like a memory from a different life. I just didn’t feel like the same person that crawled through the serpent-stone crack. I was just some stranger wearing his shed skin. 

Then at long last came a smell of deep sulphur 🜏. It was an odd contrast with the sharply cold air, and the strangely warm waters. It was the least pleasant of the bunch, but I endured it well. I followed until the tears streaming down my cheeks felt as normal as breathing. Until the rush of the river was replaced by the pounding of waves. 

I’d arrived on a beach. I couldn’t see the ocean in front of me, but I could hear how vast it had to be. There was a terrible stench, worse than the sulphur - the smell of some vast death. Godly carrion. A wound in the world long left to fester. 

I sat there on the beach of that ocean. Afraid to let those dark waters touch me. Thinking and waiting and worrying about what would happen next. 

A voice spoke just twenty feet behind me. I recognized it. I never would’ve recognized it before, but there was a knack to the way this place wore me thin. Like a razor getting sharpened instead of a shirt going ratty. 

“You’re very close,” the old man said, and I remembered him from all those years ago - sitting cross-legged in the moonlight by the bank of the canal. Looking up at me, eyes dark, and calling me over to tell me a secret. 

There's one God in this world, he said then. One God. And it's the god of don't-eat-apples. But then we invented apple pie and gave it to everyone. 

So this is our hell.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I turned around. I don’t know why. I shouldn’t have been able to see him. I shouldn’t have been able to see anything. But I could see the outline of where he was on that shoreline. Not as a  bright thing, but as a darker shade of absence. A little hole in the dark. 

I could have run. But that would’ve required taking my eyes off him, and at that moment I couldn’t bear the thought. He was the only thing to see down there. The only reason I had eyes. But somehow, more important than the joy of seeing was the feeling that as long as I kept my eyes on him, he was trapped. Pinned to this world like a butterfly on cork. 

There was a half second pause. The voice was a memory, but seeing through the gaps was new to me. The thing in front of me wasn’t an old man. It wasn’t even good at pretending. I was oddly embarrassed that I’d ever been fooled by it. What I was looking at was something older than this cave. Something trapped down here so long it could not bear the thought of light. The dream of something dead. The sloughed skin of a snake. 

The first apple eater. 

I could see shades of absence. More than the hole in the dark. I could look at the thing and feel the place where its wings should have been. Its first ones, at least. 

It lunged for me. 

I’d forgotten it could do that. 

It slammed into me like the water from the bottom of a dam. The power was nothing compared to the cold. I couldn’t see a thing, but what I could feel made bile climb up my throat. 

It was melting. Running down itself in little streams, like snow melting in the sun. Like the river I followed all the way down here. A hand ran over my face and I could feel it pouring into me, and in my fury I did the only thing I could think of: I reached up, and I wrapped my hands around its neck, and I clenched so hard that I could feel the tendons in my wrist sawing up through my skin, taut as piano wire. 

It was like squeezing wet clay. It deformed under my touch, stretching longer and thinner and smoother even as the muscular length of his impossibly long body wrapped around me. At some point the fists beating on my chest turned into wings. Stolen wings, to replace the ones that were stolen from it, and there was a scream in the cave it was so awful that I prayed it wasn’t mine. 

It was a terrible race. We were killing each other the same way. There was no question about someone dying here in front of the empty throne of god. I just didn’t want it to be me. 

Eventually, it could stretch no more, and my hands could crush more than just nightmare and shadow. The wings beat on me weaker, and weaker, until eventually some cartilage in its great neck snapped under the pressure of my thumbs.

It was like cracking a glow stick. There was a flash of light, brief as thunder, and I could see the waves in front of me. An ocean of rotting meat and bones. The outline of some great, dead serpent, fifty feet tall. And a tower of dead bodies, stretching back to ages that I could not recognize. The only corpses I could recognize were those at the top, with their strange helmets and iconic breastplates. 

Conquistadors. 

When the light went out, the body went with it. Most dreams don’t leave anything behind. Even when they’re made by gods. 

𓆙𓆙𓆙

I don’t know how I left the cave. 

I followed the river up. At some point, it stopped being the river I followed down. The tributaries feeding into it spread out like a fan, and fool that I am, I kept picking left. It shouldn’t have worked. Part of me wonders if I somehow bent the river to my will. Filled in for the dead thing bobbing in the lake, or the echo that I strangled on that starless shore. 

Or maybe I just got lucky. 

I can remember finally breaching the incline and seeing an exit into the desert. Not the one I stepped in through, but good enough. I can remember getting closer and closer, before stepping out into the burning sun. I thought it was finally over.

I thought wrong.  

I can remember looking into the bright blue sky and seeing exactly what my little brother saw on that drive all those years back. 

I don’t know what I killed down in the cave. Some dead thing in the dark, dreaming it was alive. An altar of blood and bone, designed to hold a fragment. 

But the real thing sat there in the sky. Curled up so tight and so smooth, you could mistake it for a ball. Waiting, and watching, and hating. Alive but dreaming death. The mould that stamped out the form of what lay in the cave. 

Quetzalcoatl, I learned later. The feathered serpent. 

I moved the month after that. Went somewhere north, somewhere cold, somewhere that a snake wouldn’t follow. Most days now, I look up, and I just see the sun. A flaming ball of gas. A little, red, star. 

But only most.

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙

𓆙𓆙𓆙 𓇳

Thanks to @qsatisfaction and @foldingfittedsheets for being my editors on this piece. And thanks to @dr-robert-chase-apologist for providing the prompt.

[cherryxbooo]

Yeah, I’m the lucky one

Summary: Hiding it when you're sick from your boyfriend is one thing, but hiding it from your clingy boyfriend is a whole other challenge.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff

The paddock is alive with energy, buzzing with anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance, and the hum of the crowd outside.

Lando is in his element, calm yet radiating an excitement that’s palpable.

The focus in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and it’s clear that today matters more to him than most.

The weight of the race, the pressure of the expectations, and the fire in his heart are all simmering beneath the surface.

It's a mix of raw determination and adrenaline, and it brings out the best in him.

But me? Well, I feel the complete opposite.

I woke up feeling off, my head pounding and my body aching with a fever I couldn't shake.

I knew I should stay in bed, but I couldn’t. Not today.

Not with everything he’s worked for. I couldn’t let something as trivial as being sick get in the way of him having the best race of his career.

He’s been talking about this day for weeks, getting ready for it with an intensity that I’ve only seen in the world of motorsport.

But as I made my way through the paddock, trying my best to act normal, I felt the weight of my own discomfort pulling me down.

I’ve been silently counting the minutes until I can just crawl into a quiet corner and hide.

But the last thing I want is for him to see me like this. He’d immediately worry, go into panic mode, and lose focus.

Lando, with his big heart, would put everything aside just to take care of me, and I don’t want to do that to him.

Not today. Today is about him.

As I stand next to his family, making small talk with his friends, I feel dizzy.

The lights are a little too bright, and the sounds a little too loud.

I try to steady myself, offering a weak smile whenever someone glances my way, but the effort feels exhausting.

Lando’s mum catches my eye, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of concern in her expression.

But she doesn’t say anything, just gives me a warm, reassuring smile. I’m grateful, but I can tell she knows something’s off.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel a familiar hand on my back. A small shiver runs down my spine as I turn to face Lando, and I instantly feel a warmth spread through me, despite the fever still creeping in.

“Hey baby, you okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, like he’s always aware of everything around him, especially me.

I don’t want to worry him. I can’t.

So I give him a smile that’s more practiced than I’d like to admit,

“Yeah, just a little tired. Big day, huh?”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

He studies me for a second, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, his hand gently squeezing my back.

The touch is warm, comforting. “You sure? You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You focus on the race. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

Lando hesitates, his lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to gauge if I’m really okay.

But then he nods slowly, though his concern doesn’t quite vanish.

“Alright… but if you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

His voice is almost a whisper, like he’s trying not to give away just how much he cares.

“I will,” I promise, trying to keep my tone light and convincing.

But as he walks away to prepare for the race, a sense of loneliness settles over me.

The noise around me feels overwhelming, and the crowd only amplifies the ache in my head.

I find a quiet corner, away from the chaos, hoping to just breathe for a moment.

I didn't realize that I had been hiding away for a while already.

But before I know it, Lando’s voice cuts through the distance.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

I turn to see him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His presence alone seems to calm the storm inside me.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I protest weakly, though my voice cracks just slightly.

“Just… taking a break.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Taking a break from what? From me?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin.

I close my eyes for a second, leaning into the touch, even though I feel like I might collapse at any moment.

“From the chaos of the paddock,” I admitted softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softens, the teasing in his eyes fading. He steps in closer, his body brushing against mine as he gently cups my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Hey…” His voice is tender now, a deep, comforting lull.

“Are you really feeling okay love?"

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat suddenly unbearable.

“Yes, don't worry Lan. I'm fine.”

I whisper, my voice slightly breaking as I fight the urge to lean on him completely.

I stare up at him, feeling a mix of love and pain.

I don’t want to be the one who holds him back, but I can’t deny how much I crave the support and warmth he gives me without even thinking.

Lando lowers his hands, but not without giving me one last comforting touch, his fingers brushing my wrist.

“You need to rest,” he says firmly, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind his words now.

“I’m not going to let you make it through today without me taking care of you at least once.”

I laugh softly, despite the dizziness still swirling in my head.

“I’m fine, Lando. You go be amazing out there.”

He looks at me, his eyes soft but filled with determination. “I will be. But only because you’re here.”

Before I can say anything else, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll make sure to get at least P3 for you.”

And with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of engineers and teammates.

But the moment he’s out of sight, I feel my energy drain completely.

Regardless of how I felt I still made my way to the rest so I could support Lando and be there for him.

Everywhere I look, there’s movement, excitement, and a sense of urgency.

Lando’s already suited up and surrounded by his team, getting ready to focus on the race that could mean everything for his career.

I’m supposed to be the one cheering him on, being his support, his calm, but instead, all I can do is try to survive the overwhelming wave of heat coursing through me.

Every few seconds, my head spins, my chest feels like it's on fire, and the nausea rolls in like a tide.

It’s getting harder to keep it together, but I’m trying. I can’t let anything distract him.

I can't make this his problem today, not when he’s been working so hard for this moment.

I take a seat next to Max and Pietra, hoping the three of us can keep the mood light and give Lando a little peace before he heads into the race.

I force myself to laugh at Max's joke about the weather, but it comes out more like a wheeze.

My throat feels like it’s coated in something dry and scratchy, and each breath feels like I’m not getting enough air.

Max doesn’t notice, but Pietra does.

She’s always been that way, observant, kind, and so very perceptive.

I’ve always admired how in tune she is with people.

She shifts in her seat beside me, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face.

“You okay, Y/n?” she asks gently, her voice laced with concern.

“You look a little pale.”

I immediately try to put on a smile, but it feels like the most exhausting thing I’ve done all day.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, hoping I can convince her.

“Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Pietra doesn’t buy it, not even for a second.

She leans in closer, her gaze steady as she inspects my face, my trembling hands.

“You sure?” she presses, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t look fine. Maybe you should lay down for a bit?”

The room suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me.

The dizziness that had been simmering beneath the surface is starting to take hold, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes focused on her.

I swallow hard, trying to push the wave of nausea down, but it’s impossible to ignore now.

I nod weakly, doing my best to stay composed.

“I’m okay, Pietra. Just... a little dizzy. I think I’ll sit down for a moment.”

Max, still glued to his phone, glances up briefly, probably sensing the shift in the air.

His eyes scan me quickly before he leans closer to Pietra, muttering something under his breath, probably about how pale I look.

I’m about to wave it off, to reassure them both that it’s nothing, when Pietra’s soft hand touches my shoulder.

It’s warm and grounding, her touch gentle but insistent.

“No, you’re not okay, Y/n,” she says firmly.

“You’re not fooling me. You need to go back to the hotel and rest. Max and I will handle everything here. Don’t worry about Lando. He’ll understand. He doesn’t need to know right now, and you’re not helping him by pretending you’re fine.”

My heart clenches at her words. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to make him worry.

He’s about to race, about to compete for something so important to him.

The last thing I want is to make this about me. But Pietra’s expression leaves no room for argument.

Her hand squeezes my shoulder, and I feel a wave of guilt hit me hard.

“I... I can’t just leave,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“I don’t want him to—”

“Y/n,” Pietra interrupts, her voice soft but full of authority.

“Lando will be fine. He’ll be more upset if you stay here, pretending to be okay when you’re not. Let us take care of everything. He doesn’t need the distraction. He needs you to get better, not to keep pretending.”

I shake my head, still fighting it. “But he’s going to think I don’t care.”

“He knows you care. You don’t have to prove it by running yourself into the ground,” she says, her tone firm yet reassuring.

“You need to listen to your body. Max and I can make sure everything’s fine here.”

I hesitate for a moment, my vision swimming in and out of focus, and then I feel it, the dizziness getting worse.

My stomach turns violently, and I barely suppress a gasp. Before I can protest, Pietra’s up and at my side, helping me stand.

“Max,” she calls out to him, her voice tinged with urgency.

Max looks up from his phone, his attention now fully on us. He doesn’t need to ask questions.

Without a word, he stands, motions to security, and gestures for them to clear a path.

“We’re getting you back to the hotel,” Max says, his voice gentle but decisive.

“No arguments.”

I open my mouth to protest, to tell them I’m fine, but the dizziness overtakes me again.

I feel my legs wobble, my knees threatening to give way beneath me. The nausea is so strong now that I can’t hold it back any longer.

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and my heart races as I fight to keep everything together.

“Okay,” I whisper, too weak to resist any longer. “Okay, let’s go.”

Max’s arm wraps around my shoulder, steadying me as Pietra follows closely behind.

I glance over my shoulder at the paddock, seeing the hustle and bustle of the team preparing for the race.

And even though I want nothing more than to stay and support Lando, I know Pietra’s right, he doesn’t need to see me like this.

As we make our way out of the paddock, past the busy crew and excited fans, the world seems to blur again.

All I can think about is Lando, how much he’s worked for this, and how much I wish I could be there cheering him on.

But right now, all I can do is focus on getting back to the hotel and trying to heal.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Pietra murmurs, sensing my anxiety.

“Lando will understand. We’ll make sure he stays focused.”

“Thank you,” I whisper back, squeezing her hand.

Max looks over at me, offering a reassuring smile.

“No problem, Y/n. We’ve got you.”

And as they guide me toward the exit, the sound of the engines roaring to life in the distance feels far away, almost like a distant memory.

All I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that, by the time Lando crosses the finish line, I’ll be okay.

Meanwhile,

The race was intense, there was no other way to describe it.

Lando’s heart was pounding, his breath coming in quick bursts as he fought to stay focused on the track ahead.

Each corner, each straightaway felt like it mattered more than the last.

The roar of the engine under him, the vibration in his hands as he gripped the wheel,it was like the world was screaming at him to push harder, to get everything he had into every lap.

And he did.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, the world outside of his car becoming a blur of colors and sounds.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else tugging at his mind, something he couldn’t quite shake.

Just before the race started, he had caught sight of Y/n sitting among their friends, looking beautiful as always, but something was... off.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at him, her tired eyes betraying a sense of exhaustion that didn’t quite match the energy of the day.

Or how quiet she seemed, like a flicker of something hidden behind her usual smile. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something wasn’t right.

But there was no time for that.

He pushed those thoughts away, focusing back on the race, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the track with everything he had.

He couldn’t afford to think about anything but the next corner, the next lap, the next move.

And when he crossed the finish line, the elation of victory should’ve been enough to make everything feel perfect.

After all, he had gotten P2.

The cheers, the confetti, the roar of the crowd, it was everything he’d been working for, everything he’d dreamed of.

But in the midst of it all, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Y/n.

His gaze searched the area, instinctively looking for her.

He was surrounded by teammates, sponsors, friends, but all he wanted in that moment was to see her smile, to know she was okay.

He scanned the area again, but she wasn’t there.

Not where he had left her. His stomach tightened, his mind racing. Something wasn’t right.

Lando quickly moved through the crowd, dodging everyone on his way, his eyes darting between faces, searching for any sign of her.

He was so focused on finding her, he almost didn’t see Max and Pietra standing off to the side.

When he finally noticed them, his heart skipped a beat. You weren't there.

Lando’s pace quickened as he approached them, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t hide.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, his words coming out sharper than he intended.

Pietra exchanged a glance with Max before she sighed, the look on her face telling Lando everything he needed to know.

"She wasn’t feeling well," she said softly, her eyes clouded with concern.

"We had to send her back to the hotel."

Lando’s chest tightened, a heavy weight settling over him.

His pulse quickened, the sudden rush of guilt and worry clouding his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice rising slightly, not in anger, but in genuine confusion.

Max stepped forward, his expression calm but serious.

"Mate she didn’t want to distract you. She said it was important not to take your focus away from the race."

Lando’s mind was spinning now, the elation of his victory evaporating as quickly as it had come.

Guilt was flooding him, he couldn’t believe Y/n had been struggling, that she’d hidden it from him.

She’d always been there for him, supportive, understanding, even when he was caught up in his own world.

And now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let her down.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the weight of the situation was suffocating.

He didn’t know what to say.

All he could think about was how she had been sitting there, probably feeling miserable, and he hadn’t even noticed.

The race, his career, all of it felt so insignificant compared to the thought of Y/n being alone and sick.

“Why didn’t she just tell me? I would’ve understood. I could’ve—”

Pietra stepped forward, her hand gently resting on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“Lando, she didn’t want you to worry. She knew how much today meant to you. She didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Max nodded in agreement.

“She’s always there for you. But she’s not the type to let herself be a distraction, not when you’re in the zone like that. You know how she is, she cares about you more than anything, but she didn’t want to pull you away from your focus.”

Lando let out a long breath, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest.

“I should’ve noticed,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I should’ve been paying more attention."

"You’re not a mind reader, Lando," Pietra said, her voice calm but firm.

Lando realized that she was right.

He quickly greeted the rest of his family and did some other duties before changing and heading back to the hotel.

Lando arrived at the hotel room, his body still buzzing from the race, but his mind consumed by a different kind of worry.

As soon as he entered, the first thing he did was quietly close the door behind him.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the dim light from the lamps were the only sounds in the room.

His eyes immediately fell on your figure, still asleep, your peaceful face glowing softly under the sheets.

The sight of you, so vulnerable yet so beautiful, made his heart ache with both affection and guilt.

He quietly pulled a chair from the small desk and sat down beside the bed, never taking his eyes off you.

He wanted to be close to his girl, but he didn’t want to wake you.

He knew you needed rest, but the worry of the day, the worry about you, hadn’t let up.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

His fingers lingered there for a second before he let out a soft breath, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee.

He could almost hear the questions running through his mind, wondering why you hadn’t told him what you had been feeling.

He could feel the weight of your absence, the quiet ache in his chest from not knowing exactly what had been going on with you.

The minutes seemed to stretch on, each tick of the clock amplifying his thoughts.

He hated this uncertainty, this feeling that something had been left unsaid.

Then, after what felt like forever, a soft groan escaped from your lips, and Lando’s attention snapped to her immediately.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light in the room.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, confusion settling on her face as she took in her surroundings.

Lando watched her with a mix of relief and concern, his heart lightening at the sight of you waking up but still heavy with the questions that lingered in his mind.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Lando said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

My vision cleared, and I smiled sleepily at him.

Lando’s heart squeezed.

"You’re awake. I’ve been here waiting for you to wake up for, like, ages now." He chuckled softly, though his eyes were still filled with concern.

"But seriously… why didn’t you tell me?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me.

My hand reached for his, finding his fingers weakly, and I squeezed them, my fingers trembling a bit.

"I didn’t want to be a burden," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t want to ruin your day or take away from the race. It was important to you. I just… I didn’t want to distract you."

Lando smiled at me softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

"You’re never a burden, Y/n." He looked at me with such sincerity, it made my heart ache in the best way.

"You are always my priority, okay? Not the race, not the fans, not the win. You. Always."

I felt my heart flutter at his words, my eyes softening as I looked back at him.

The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill, and I could feel them welling up.

Being sick just makes people extra emotional, give it a break yeah?

"I’m sorry," I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.

Lando shook his head, his heart aching.

He leaned closer, cupping my cheek gently, his thumb brushing over my skin.

"You don’t have to apologize," he whispered.

"You never have to hide anything from me, especially not when it comes to you."

I felt the weight of his words, the tenderness in his touch, and I wanted so badly to just melt into him.

I was so grateful for him, for the way he always made me feel safe, loved, and heard.

Lando sat beside me on the bed, leaning back just enough to grab the water and medicine he’d set out earlier.

"You need to drink this," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

"Get some rest, and I’ll be right here with you. Just take it easy."

I hesitated for a moment, but then reached for the glass of water he held out to me.

My fingers were still shaking slightly, but I took it from him gratefully.

There was a small, tired smile on my lips as I drank, and Lando’s eyes never left me.

He was watching me closely, making sure I was okay. It felt nice to be looked after this way.

After I finished the water, Lando sat back down next to me again, his hand finding mine once more.

"You don’t ever have to hide something like that from me, okay?" he said, his voice soft but serious.

"If something’s wrong, you have to tell me. Promise me you’ll tell me next time."

I looked up at him, my eyes full of emotion, and I nodded slowly.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I felt a few of them slide down my cheeks.

Before I could say anything, Lando quickly wiped them away with his thumb, his touch light, tender.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again, my voice barely audible.

He slightly laughed, "You're such a crybaby when you're sick babe."

Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice full of love and affection.

"I love you, baby. I love you, and that’s all that matters." His voice was quiet but strong, filled with reassurance.

I pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest, letting out a small, exaggerated sigh.

"Mmm, this is the best pillow ever," I mumbled, half-laughing, half-groaning in exhaustion.

Lando wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tighter.

His chin rested on top of my head, and he chuckled softly.

"You come first," he said with a mock-serious tone, trying to sound all deep and dramatic.

"Always."

I snuggled in a little closer, feeling his warmth.

"Oh, I know now," I said, glancing up at him with a grin.

"You’re basically my personal butler, aren’t you? Always there when I need you."

He let out a dramatic gasp. "But of course! My whole existence is to serve you, my queen."

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh.

"Thank you for being here," I said, the words half-sweet, half-teasing.

Lando smirked, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Please don't cry again... and well yeah, where else would I be? I’m not going anywhere."

Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added,

"Besides, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. You know that, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, feeling him grin against the top of my head.

"Oh, I know," I said, playfully tapping his chest.

"You're my big soft marshmallow. I practically own you."

Lando chuckled, his arms tightening around me. "You absolutely do. And you’re not even sorry about it."

I smirked, rolling my eyes. "Well, I am your number one priority, aren’t I?"

His eyes sparkled with affection, and he pulled me a little closer.

"You’re my number one everything, Y/n. No competition."

I snorted, unable to help the grin that spread across my face.

"Good. Glad we’re clear on that."

As we sat there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside felt miles away.

All that mattered was us, his heartbeat, my tired sighs, and the way we fit together like we’d always been meant to.

For a moment, everything else faded, and all I could think was: Yeah, I’m the lucky one.

The end

[mejaemin]

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ✦　

so hot… - yoon jeonghan

wc: 0.6k summary: jeonghan’s new haircut is so attractive that it woke you right out of your sleep! warnings: fluff, jeonghan baby talking reader (i KNOW he would do this nobody can tell me otherwise), the haircut 👅 an: this hair cut has me feeling 1,000 feelings at once

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ✦　

you’re not even awake right now. you’re completely delirious, to the point where your eyes are barely open, your hands shaking with the feeling of getting up so abruptly, not even getting a chance to get rid of the drool on your cheek. you felt your bedroom lights turn on, and through the one eye you cracked open, all you saw was something different about your boyfriend, and that alone was enough to get you on your feet.

the whine that fell from your lips paired with your disheveled self stumbling across the bedroom definitely caught him off guard with the way his eyes widened, cheeks a little pink as he opened his arms for you.

“hey angel..” he chuckles, smirking at the way you run your hands through his cropped hair, still in your sleep addled daze. “it’s nice, hm?”

you don’t say anything, very overwhelmed in the moment. it was definitely a mistake to get up like that, your head aching a bit and your heart beating out of your chest due to using energy you hadn’t gotten yet. you dip your head into the crook of his neck, pressing your lips to it as a response. he’s so warm, and you don’t know if you’re alive or sleeping against him, but you’re so comfortable that you feel like sleeping standing up.

“you’re still so sleepy, aren’t you, baby?” you don’t even need to see his face to know he’s pouting at you, always having an urge to baby talk you all the time.

you’re so tired that all you can do is whine, bringing yourself a little closer to him. his hands find your waist, rubbing circles that are so soothing he’s really not helping your case. his lips find the top of your head, and you stay like that for a few minutes until you eventually end up actually falling asleep.

it’s only seconds before you wake up again, gentle hands pushing hair out of your face. your eyes open barely a crack, and jeonghan’s looking down at you with the sweetest lovestruck look in his eyes. you open your own a little wider, and then fully upon remembering his new haircut, smiling to yourself at the sight.

“ ‘s so nice, hannie… so hot..” it’s not even on purpose, but your face is so puffy from sleep that you have a natural pout on your lips, and it only makes your boyfriend coo at you even more.

“thank you so much, angel. now why don’t you go lay back down, okay? i’ll join you in a moment, i just need to undress.” he gently leads you back to your shared bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin before turning away.

he sets his glasses on his nightstand before making his way to the closet. on the way he pulls off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath because what’s the point? you’re falling in and out of consciousness as you watch him get undressed, fair skin completely on display and so beautiful that it keeps you tethered to the living world. a quick glance at the time tells you it’s nearly midnight, jeonghan’s “date” with seungcheol going late into the night.

finally, in nothing but a pair of boxers, he flicks the bedroom light off and crawls into bed next to you. pulling you into his chest, you’re able to finally relax and go back to sleep, not without letting him know one last thing.

“i love it, hannie, love you.. your hair.. want you so bad..” you mumble into his chest.

he chuckles, running a hand up and down your hip. “okay, angel. we’ll see about that in the morning,”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ✦　

svt 🏷️ @coquettejunnie

[sluttapes]

⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ⌝

christoper owen & matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹ㆍ𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 (𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺.)ㆍ𝘥𝘪��𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴ㆍ𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦ㆍ

you didn’t speak about it when the car pulled into the triplets’ driveway.

no one said a word.

not about what happened. not about how far it had gone. not about how far it almost went. the three of you just got out of the car like nothing happened, the silence tight between you, humming with something unfinished. and maybe it was easier that way—pretending the heat from the drive hadn’t followed you home. pretending you weren’t still pulsing with it.

inside, everything was familiar. matt’s room was still messy from the day you guys left—hoodies on the chair, a half-empty water bottle tipped on his nightstand, rumpled blankets he didn’t even bother to fix before collapsing into them. it was unusual for him, but leaving for the weekend was a rush, so neither of you really bothered with cleaning anything. not you at your place, not them two at theirs. matt just dropped onto the bed like gravity hit him harder than usual, face buried in the pillow. you hovered for a second in the doorway, unsure if you should crawl in too.

but he reached back blindly, fingers curling around your wrist and tugging you in without a word. like it was normal. like nothing had changed. so you napped there, the quiet warmth of his room settling over you both, thick and heavy like the rain had been earlier. matt fell asleep fast, his arm slung across your waist. your heart beat a little too fast for your own comfort, but the exhaustion won eventually.

chris had gone to his room. nick wasn’t home, which made the silence in the house even louder. and when you finally woke up, your body still half sore from the car ride and the weird adrenaline of the day, everything felt… suspended.

like the moment wasn’t over. just paused.

the three of you eventually found yourselves in the living room, sprawled out across the couch and floor. pillows. phones. silence. the tv was on but muted, some random tv show playing reruns you weren’t watching. no one was talking. no one knew what to say. your phone screen glowed in your hand, thumb scrolling with no real attention. but you could feel it.

matt kept glancing at you.

you could feel chris looking too—casual and sideways, eyes flicking up between long blinks. and then… they locked eyes. just for a second. like they’d been circling the same thought all afternoon and finally crashed into it at the same time. their expressions didn’t change much. but you felt it. the shift.

your spine straightened slightly. lips parting like your body knew something before your mind did. matt raised an eyebrow, just barely. the kind of expression that said you thinking what i’m thinking?

chris’s lips curved. not a smile. more like an agreement.

you looked between them slowly. and suddenly your phone felt heavy in your hand. because the air was different now. something was coming. and they both knew it.

you didn’t speak. none of you did. but the look that passed between matt and chris—it said everything.

and the way their eyes kept coming back to you? it said the rest.

your stomach flipped, heat curling under your skin again like it never really left. it had just been waiting for a spark. and now it was everywhere. thick in the room. dense in your lungs. matt leaned back first, arms stretched over the back of the couch, his eyes dropping down your frame with casual ease. his fingers tapped along the fabric behind you, like he was weighing something. deciding.

then chris sat forward slightly on the floor, elbows on his knees, phone long forgotten in his lap as he looked up at you. and you could tell by his face—he knew. he knew you were thinking about it. about both of them. about what it meant. what it could become.

matt’s voice cut into the silence, low and calm. “so… we gonna talk about it?”

your heart kicked up.

you glanced between them, pulse hammering in your throat. “talk about… what?”

his mouth pulled into the faintest grin. “you know.”

chris didn’t let you look away for long. “you liked it. don’t pretend you didn’t.”

you swallowed. your voice barely came out. “you don’t even know what i’m thinking.”

“no?” chris asked, eyes dragging slowly down your body, then back up. “i think i do.”

matt’s arm shifted—closer now, the side of his hand brushing your shoulder like an invitation. “you weren’t stopping either of us.”

you sat there, motionless, frozen between them. between choices. between the way matt looked at you like he already had you, and the way chris looked like he wanted to prove you 'belonged' to neither of them. or maybe both. the tension was unbearable now. and yet… you didn’t move. you didn’t want to move.

chris tilted his head, voice quieter. “you ever thought about it before, sweetheart?”

your lips parted. “about what?”

“both of us,” matt said. “at the same time?”

your heart stuttered. there it was. said out loud. no more circling around it. no more careful silence. you could barely breathe.

“you don’t have to say anything,” matt added, voice low, rough with something that sounded almost like restraint. “we can just stop. or—”

“or we don’t,” chris cut in, leaning forward. “and we keep going.”

you looked between them, pulse thudding like a drum. you’d never felt so seen. so stretched between two halves of the same thought—matt’s calm, steady heat, and chris’s sharp, hungry edge.

and the worst part?

you didn’t want to choose.

the silence after matt’s earlier question wasn’t silence at all. it was a roar. static in your veins, the hum of the muted tv, the ragged cadence of three breaths holding, then releasing. your skin prickled under their gazes—matt’s patient, smoldering; chris’s sharp, unyielding. the air clung to your throat, thick with the scent of rain still lingering on their clothes, the faint musk of sweat from the drive, the citrus of chris’s cologne cutting through it all like a blade.

you didn’t speak. you didn’t need to.

matt moved first. always the initiator, the one who bridged gaps with a smirk and a steady hand. his fingers grazed your jaw, tilting your face toward him, and his kiss was deliberate. slow. a question phrased as a statement. his lips were warm, familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

“you don't need to do anything you're not comfortable with” he murmured against your mouth, the words a low rumble you felt in your ribs. his thumb brushed your bottom lip, pressing just enough to part them.

“would never make you do anything you don't want.”

you let him keep going. because as weird, and as new as this feeling, this whole thing was, you wanted it. more than you cared to admit.

chris wasn’t one to watch. you felt him shift behind you, his knees bracketing your hips as he settled on the couch, hands sliding around your waist to pull you back against him. his laugh was a dark puff against your neck.

“you always gotta be first, matt?” his teeth nipped the tendon there, not quite gentle. “already had your fun of being first last night..”

you gasped, arching into the sting, and matt’s grip tightened on your chin.

“eyes here,” he said, softer now, almost apologetic.

his other hand slid into your hair, guiding your mouth back to his. this time, the kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping against yours, deliberate and claiming. you whimpered, torn between the heat of his mouth and the press of chris’s hardening length against your lower back.

“fuck,” chris muttered, palms skimming up your sides, pushing your shirt higher.

his touch was rougher, impatient, the softness of his hands catching on your skin as he found the curve of your breast.

“you’ve been thinking about this, huh? both of us?” he squeezed your tit, and your moan was swallowed by matt’s kiss. “knew it. always knew you'd get turned on by some shit like that.”

matt pulled back a little, his thumb on your lip, pressing in. “can you open up for me, pretty?” you obeyed, your tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin.

his eyes were fixated on the movement, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watched you do as he said. “such pretty lips.. you're so beautiful, sweetheart.”

you hadn’t realized he’d undone his jeans until he got up from where he was sat next to you, looking down at you with an unspoken question behind his gaze, making sure you were comfortable with this during every single second of it. his cock brushed your lips, thick and heavy in your hand now. you hesitated—too much, too fast—but chris’s fingers dug into your hips, anchoring you.

“don’t choke,” he taunted, joking because he knew how nervous you were about this whole situation. though his voice wavered when matt’s tip nudged your tongue. “bet she will, though. bet she’s dying to.”

matt’s hand tightened in your hair. “ignore him,” he said, but his hips jerked forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you gagged, tears springing to your eyes at the sudden fullness in your mouth, and he froze.

“shit—” he rasped, thumb stroking your cheek. “just breathe through it. you’re okay. tell me to stop if you need to”

chris was already working your shorts down your thighs, his palm slapping your ass lightly.

“c’mon, baby. y'know you can take it.” his fingers slid between your legs, and you jolted at the contact, already soaked.

“jesus,” he hissed, dragging two fingers through your slickness before pushing them into his mouth. “can't believe you got to taste that pretty pussy before i did..” chris scoffed at matt.

but matt ignored him, fully focused on the warmth of your mouth around him. his cock pulsed against your tongue, precum bitter as he rocked deeper.

“look at me, beautiful” he demanded, and you forced your eyes open, blurry with tears.

his expression was torn—hunger and something almost tender.

“attagirl. taking me so well.” he brushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear like this was something soft, something sacred. but his hips didn’t stop, each thrust measured, relentless.

chris’s hands returned, spreading you open, fingers now plunging in and out of your wet, needy pussy. you moaned around matt’s length, back arching, but chris held you firm, fingers curling.

“so sensitive,” he mocked, the vibration of his laugh against your neck making you shudder.

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t think. the room narrowed to the stretch of matt in your throat, the bruising grip of chris’s hand on your thighs, the coil in your belly tightening with every tight circle of chris’s thumb on your clit. matt’s praise blurred with chris’s taunts, until you were a sobbing, moaning mess. drool and tears streaking your face.

you barely processed the shift, and matt pulling back, and out of your mouth before chris was grabbing you, pulling you on top of him fully. your back hitting his chest. his fingers gripping your hips tightly. you cried out when his cock nudged your entrance.

“look at him,” chris growled, “look at matt. show him how much better i make you feel.”

matt stood in front of you, one hand fisting his cock, the other tilting your chin up. his eyes were black, fevered.

“you're doing so, so good, sweetheart.” he praised.

your lips part as chris sheathed himself inside you in one not so gentle thrust. the pain was white-hot, exquisite. you moaned, loud. nails digging into chris’s thighs, but matt’s thumb swept over your bottom lip.

“it's okay. y' got it,” he coaxed, though his own breath hitched when chris began to move, your tits bouncing, eyes staring up into matt's. “you’re okay. so good for us.”

chris’s laugh was a snarl. “she’s not okay,” he said, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “she’s fucking desperate for this. always has been.”

his pace was punishing, each snap of his hips driving you onto matt’s cock when he pushed back into your mouth. “yeahhh, taht's it. suck him,” chris ordered, hands fisting your hair to hold you still.

“so fuckin' dirty. lettin' your best friend fuck your mouth like that”

the stretch of matt down your throat, the brutal fullness of chris beneath you, his dirty words, the way their groans harmonized as they used you—it shattered you. you came with a muffled scream, body clamping around chris as he cursed, his rhythm faltering.

“fuck, squeezing me so good—” chris’s hips stuttered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “gonna make me—ah, shit—”

matt’s hand tightened in your hair, his thrusts picking up the pace. “such a good girl, y' got it, oohhh—fuck— y' got it, baby.” he choked out, your throat working around him as he came, bitter and thick.

chris followed with a growl, spilling into you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his groans.

────୨ৎ────

the living room was quiet again. but it wasn’t the same kind of silence as before. this one was… heavier. not uncomfortable, just thick. like the air itself was holding onto what had just happened.

the couch creaked slightly as you adjusted, still catching your breath, your skin cooling under the weight of the aftermath. pillows askew. one of the blankets halfway on the floor. someone’s shirt draped across the back of the couch—maybe matt’s. maybe chris’s. you couldn’t tell anymore. your body ached in places that hadn’t been touched like that before. not by them, not by both of them. not with that kind of shared want. you sat there, wrapped in the warmth of it, still caught in the glow of what the three of you had done.

what the hell did we just do? you thought, but not in a way that felt like regret.

beside you, matt let out a quiet sigh. it was soft. steady. the kind of sound he made when he didn’t know what to say but didn’t mind the silence, either. you turned your head just slightly, and there he was—arm tossed over his eyes, his other hand resting near your leg, close but not quite touching.

chris was stretched on the other side, head tilted back against the couch cushion, lips parted like he was still catching his breath. one hand on his stomach, the other loosely hanging off the edge of the cushion.

no one was speaking. not yet.

but their breathing—your breathing—still filled the space. like a memory that hadn’t fully settled. you reached for the blanket, tugging it back over your chest as you shifted to sit up a little. your body was still buzzing, raw and real in the aftermath. your heart had finally slowed, but your thoughts hadn’t. you weren’t sure if you should say something. if you should joke about it. laugh. break the weird tension before it had time to stretch too far. but then matt moved. his hand brushed your knee gently, grounding you.

“you okay?” he murmured, voice rough, sleep-heavy.

you nodded. “yeah. just… yeah.”

chris’s voice chimed in next, a little smug, a little curious. “you regretting it already?”

your head turned toward him, and for a second, you thought he was being serious. but the way his mouth curved told you he wasn’t. not really.

“no,” you said, honest. “just… thinking.”

matt shifted to sit up, running a hand through his hair. “we probably should talk about it. we don't have to now, but like... you know..”

no one answered right away. you weren’t sure what there was to say. not yet, anyway. but you knew one thing for sure. things would never go back to the way they were before.

and maybe… you didn’t want them to.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

@tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss @courta13 @sophsturns @starsforu @h3arts4nat @emely9274 @chestersturn @watercolorskyy @httpssturns @cherryystemm @adoremattsturns

[suksatoru]

dabi's dearest.

dabi as a father—who knew he was such a family guy?

You click the small white circle towards the bottom of your phone for just about the hundredth time, angling your phone over Dabi as he slept soundly—and the white haired baby on his chest peers up at you with a gummy smile.

You smile, pocketing your phone as you reach your hand forward to ruffle your little baby boy's unruly white hair. Dabi shifts in his sleep, mumbling your name quietly before he goes slack again.

"He's tired, hm?" you hum, carefully lifting the baby off of his broad chest as you lay yourself onto the couch beside Dabi, pushing your baby's hair from his forehead as an adorable pair of eyes stared back at you.

"We really need to cut your hair," you huff, pushing back yet another stray strand out of your baby's eyes as he babbles on about something—staring at his dad with a chubby, outstretched hand.

Dabi's eyes flutter open—and his hands instinctively reach towards his chest, which felt entirely too light. His eyes catch onto your smiling face quickly as the confusion from his face fades, before he turns to you with a lazy grin.

"Punk woke up before me, huh?"

As if in response to his words, the little baby in your arms lets out a gurgle of excitement with twinkling eyes—crawling towards his father in an instant as Dabi outstretches his arms to welcome him into his embrace. He nestles right onto Dabi's chest, and soon enough—you too are curling yourself against his bare skin with a content sigh, smiling when you see Dabi already peering down at you with a soft grin.

"Want another one?"

Your smile falters in surprise as you attempt to form a coherent response—sputtering out a bewildered huh?! as Dabi laughs loudly.

"What? He's pretty cute. Look at him chewing on my shirt—we can get another one to chew on yours so it's fair," He says as if were the most casual thing in the world, pulling back your son's cheeks gently from his tattered shirt at the little boy whines—latching his gummy teeth back onto Dabi's shirt the second he looks away and turns towards you.

"Or maybe they'll both chew on your shirt," you mumble, huffing in embarrassment from Dabi's previous comment. How long have you and him been together? Years. Even after all this time, he can still leave you blushing wildly with his shamelessly flirtatious comments. Dabi grins a lopsided smile, looking down at the sleepy baby on his chest as he tilts his head, staring down into the little boy's eyes.

They were a pair of eyes he once hated. They reminded him entirely too much of his father and reflection in the mirror—oh the nights he'd spent begging silently for his baby to have your wonderful eyes. Dabi didn't usually get what he wanted, but things had changed quickly regardless. Now, he lived to see those cerulean eyes crinkle with life and laughter. It was such a sight to see.

"He's teething. We gotta get him some sort of a chew toy I think," you say quietly, and Dabi scoffs

"Like a dog?" he smirks—and you glare at him, gently slapping his chest while trying to keep yourself from smiling.

"No dumbass, like—well, I don't know," you suddenly say, a tinge of frustration clear in your tone as you look at your baby, who peers back cluelessly. It's hard to not smile when he reaches forward and starts playing mindlessly with your hair.

"Hey... come on now, we'll figure this out," he says determined, ruffling the little boy's hair with a sharp grin "It's my baby boy, he'll be fine. Matter of fact—he'll be the best. You and me as his ma and pop? Oh, bless his soul." He teases, gently tugging on your hair in the same manner the little boy in his lap did—and you squirm with a laugh when he moves his palm further back, cradling your head and pulling on the strands with an oddly loving look in his eyes.

"Ok, ok! He can barely walk—you really think he's all that though, huh?" You giggle, nudging your son's chubby cheek with a curled knuckle as Dabi rolls his eyes with a small smile, tracing circles lightly on your hip as he shrugs

"He could totally kick my ass."

"He can't even talk!"

"Sure he can. Say dad." Dabi commands, looking down at the little boy as he babbles something incoherent curiously—looking between you and Dabi with wide eyes and a childish smile. You giggle quietly, watching Dabi trying to get the baby to say dad over and over again—his confidence in the little baby never once diminished. Over the next couple of days, you'd catch him trying to get your son to say the word 'dad' far too many times.

You'd tease him relentlessly for it—but he'd bounce back with a cocky response, defending the white haired baby perched on his hip as he huffed and pouted. You should've taken Dabi's stubbornness into account, his relentless nature was fueled by his determination, and your baby seemed to fall victim to this fact.

It's only a few weeks later when you're laying with Dabi in bed after putting your son down for the night when you hear a quiet cry from his nursery. You lift your head off of his chest, but he pushed you back down gently.

"I got it—go back to sleep, doll."

After mumbling your sleepy response of okay, you sink into your pillow and prepare to fall back asleep—but Dabi's thunderous footsteps sound through the hall, and you quickly move to sit up in bed with confusion when you hear him yelling.

"He said it! Say it again, you punk! Say it, say it!"

"Dadda!" the little boy gurgles the moment Dabi appears in the doorway as you let out a quiet gasp. Your legs move automatically, and you're embracing the two of them in a hug moments later, laughing.

"Your daddy just wouldn't leave it alone, hmm?" You smile. Your son's very first words were as clear as day—accentuated by a toothy grin he offers the two of you. He jostles the baby in his arms gently, and the look of pure fulfillment on his face has you smiling harder.

This was his own little family. He'd finally felt the love of a real home.

[leviraaaaaa]

“Your hands are fucking cold.”

You freeze when one of his eyes peer open, your hands pausing on his face where you were tracing his cheek.

You'd been awake for a few minutes now, watching him sleep. As the light sleeper he was, you knew you shouldn't be touching him when he's asleep. But he was lying just beside you, all curled and comfortable, his dark hair disheveled and his face so soft, you couldn't resist.

“Did I wake you?” You whispered.

“No.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes again. “Been up for a while. Just resting my eyes.”

You smile a little, scooching closer to him under the blanket. You could feel his body heat through the thin shirt he wore. “Never thought I'd see you lazing around.”

“It's weekend.”

“Since when do you care about weekends?”

“Fucks sake.” He groaned in response, scowling. His eyes opened as he shot a heatless glare at you. “It's one day I take a break and I'm facing a fucking interrogation. I'm getting up.”

With that said, before you could process what was happening, there was an empty space beside your arms and a blatant lack of warmth. You blinked confusedly.

"Hey—what? No!” You protested, but you were slightly late. He was already out of bed. You pushed yourself up to a half-sitting position, trying to keep your eyes open.

“What no?” He asked, glancing at you sideways as he stretched out his arms.

“Get back under here! I'm sorry!”

“Weren't you the one pestering me that I was laying around?” His raised his brow.

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean I want you to leave!” You whined.

He sighed, turning to the bedside table. He picked up the watch that lied on it. “It's way too late anyways. I need to get my shit done.”

“What shit?” You grumbled, half rising and crawling to the edge of the bed. You tilted your head to get a glimpse of the watch in his hand. “It's seven.”

He raised a brow at you questioningly and you are appalled.

“Levi, it's seven. On a weekend. Seven.”

“What's your point?”

You gaped at him for a few seconds, mouth parted. What kind of a psychopath were you dating?

“Sleep in?” You suggested, like it was obvious. “Please?”

Levi scoffed like you said something funny and you weren't sure how you should be feeling.

“You never get any rest!” Annoyance creeped into your tone as you glared at him. Why did this man hate life so much?

He doesn't respond, blatantly ignoring you as he slipped his feet through his slippers.

“Levi. Just sleep a little more. Come on.”

“I've slept enough.” He mumbled. “It's seven in the fucking morning.”

The absolute disgusted face you made at that statement was unreal. The absolute mortification you felt at that statement was unreal. You knew your boyfriend had serious issues, with insomnia and shit, and that he woke up early. He always left bed before you even woke up but you never thought it was serious to the point he got up at seven on a weekend. What time did he get up on normal days then?

You brainstormed fast. You really, really wanted him to come back here.

“Look!” You pushed your arms out the blanket, wiggling them around to get Levi's attention. It did. Levi was frowning, confused. “Look!”

“What?”

“Cold hand. Colder feet. I am freezing.” You said seriously “As my boyfriend, it'd be very rude of you to leave me to freeze to death.”

“You're under a damn blanket, stop being dramatic.” He rolled his eyes.

“Okay, and? You're warmer.”

“The fuck?’’ Levi looked at you. “Am I your personal human shaped heater or some shit?”

You considered. “...kinda?”

“You little shit.”

“No, okay, listen.” You sat up fully straight now, all sleepiness gone. You were on a mission and you were not going to rest until you succeeded. “I don't know who told you what but it's not a crime to sleep on weekends.”

Levi did not look convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at you. “Sure you'd know all about sleeping in. Takes the whole squad to wake you even on regular days.”

You shrugged. If he was trying to shame you, he was failing. You were a proud bed-rotter and not even Levi could overcome your love for naps (he came very close). “Yes,” You agreed, then pulled up the blanket and patted the empty spot beside you where he was resting before. “Now get in and let me teach you the blessings that weekends are.”

He stared at you. You stared back.

“Ackerman, do not make me come out there and drag you in, okay? I am cold, I will be colder. And then I will be pissed for the rest of the day.”

He watched you for a couple seconds, all grumpy and gloomy and serious, your messy hair on your head like a dark cloud hanging over. With your sleepy eyes and pouty lips, it was tempting. Highly. Even for him.

He considered. Paperwork. Erwin. Whatnot. He glanced back at you.

Dignity. He prayed silently. Walls, spare him dignity. Fuck it, he should really get going.

Should he?

Screw dignity. He caved.

“Fine.”

Your eyes instantly lit up, almost jumping in happiness when he sat back down. Enthusiastically, you pushed the blanket on him, wrapping your arms around him the moment he lied down, trapping him to ensure he can't change his mind. Your legs find his legs and you pushed them between them, scooting closer until you're practically flattened against him, snuggled against his chest, absorbing the warmth he offered, your eyes closing almost immediately. An arm wraps snugly around your waist and you swear you're half asleep right then and there.

“I didn't come back for you.” You hear him say. A man's gotta defend his pride after all. But you noticed the flush on his cheeks.

“Sure not.” You reply as you yawn.

“Serious. Don't think this'd always work. I just didn't have the mood to deal with paperwork.”

“Uh huh.” You were not convinced. Not the slightest bit.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I'm not.”

“You are. You're turning this into some gooey shit and it's weirding me out.”

“Okay. Whatever.” You nodded mockingly. “Says the guy who's here cuddling with me and getting blushy blushy. I'm sure this isn't gooey shit.”

“Fuckd sake.” He draped an arm over his face in fluster. “If you don't shut up, I will leave.”

“Shutting up.” You bit your tongue. Miracles were ever so rare, what idiot would you be to push your luck?

You kept silent a while, watching him as his eyelashes fluttered shakily. He was still stiff, his muscles tensed. The dark shadows had definitely lessened, you noticed, ever since you'd been pestering after him to get enough sleep all week. It's working, he had definitely been less tired. But it's not enough. This insomniac bastard can hardly get 4 hours of sleep on average and that did not sit right with you.

He was tired. You knew. You could tell

“Levi.”

He doesn't speak, only hums softly in response.

“Sleep. Don't just lie down.”

“Can't.” He shook his head slightly. “Can't sleep so late.”

“It's seven.”

There's a hint of a smile on his face. “I think it's already been settled that we have very different views on what's early and what's late.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop criticizing my sense of time and go to sleep and let me sleep as well.”

“Can't.” He told you simply, his voice soft. “Doesn’t mean you can't. Go to sleep, I'll be here.”

Shaking your head, you push yourself up slightly. Your fingers trailed up to his neck and he freezes slightly. You traced the feeling of his undercut under your fingers, scratching down with your nails. “Let me help you then.”

His eyes open to find yours questioningly. You smiled, shifting closer and traveling your hands higher until they were running between the dark strands of his hair. You pull at them, just the way you knew he liked and it works, his shoulders almost instantly relaxes visibly and a soft sigh escapes him, his eyes fluttering shut. You shift up, higher until you can press his head to his chest and that's all it takes. It's like he melts into you.

“Shit.” He groaned softly.

“Feels good?”

He doesn't say anything, but his breathing relaxes, starting to get even.

“Go to sleep, Lev.”

He doesn't protest anymore, closing his eyes.

You play with his hair a little more, another hand softly massaging one of his shoulders. A couple seconds passed by in silence and through, you could only listen to his heavy breathing.It's okay if he didn't sleep fully. You just wanted him to relax. Absentmindedly, you traced one of the hair strands that fell on over his forehead. His bangs came almost upto his eyes now.

“Huh,” You sighed softly. “Levi. Your hair got longer—oh…. asleep?”

Oh shit, he actually fell asleep.

And no amount of titans you've ever killed could ever give you the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment you felt at that second.

You stared at his peaceful face happily for a few seconds. Then, still hands on his hair, you felt yourself dozing back to sleep. It's like watching him relaxing has made you feel relaxed as well. And no sooner, you were drowning in his arms, drifting to a far away world.

.

Levi wakes up after 3 hours.

At first, he's confused. He's sitting up in bed wondering how it'd become this late. How could it be that it was past 10 and he was still in bed?

But then he looks at you, so deep in sleep like you wouldn't even feel if the world just ended and he remembers.

Right. Of course it was you.

Did you know how easy it was for him to sleep when you were around?

He stares at you softly, all curled up under the sheets. He shifts a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. You groaned quietly at the touch, but that was about it. You did not look like you were going to wake up anytime soon.

He watches you, considering.

Dignity. He prayed. Dignity has been long gone since the day you came into his life. He really, really should be getting up now.

Should he?

Screw dignity. He caved.

Might as well go for another hour.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Star student!Mydei in an enemies to lovers scenario with class clown!reader where, one day they're getting into another silly argument and the next thing you know, he's waking up in her bed.

ℱ）warnings : nsfw/smut, creampie, unprotected s*x, overstimulation, bullying, teasing, dumbification, degradation, size difference/kink and enemies to lovers. not proof read!!

ℱ）note : art header is by rororo_mg on x !! also not proof read.

Mydei groaned as consciousness crept back to him, his body heavy, his mind sluggish. He blinked against the dim morning light filtering through the window, trying to piece together where he was—

Then he froze.

This wasn’t his room. The sheets smelled different, softer, laced with something sweet and floral. There was a weight on his chest—warm, steady breaths tickling against his skin. And when he finally dared to glance down, his breath caught in his throat.

You.

His sworn pain in the ass, the class clown who made his life infinitely harder, was curled up against him, your arm draped over his stomach, your face tucked against his shoulder. Mydei’s stomach twisted, heat crawling up his neck as flashes of last night slammed into his mind all at once.

The argument. The usual back-and-forth, sharp words and teasing jabs. You were always getting under his skin, always testing his patience with that insufferable, mischievous grin. But this time, it had been different. The tension had snapped, the line between irritation and something far more dangerous blurring in an instant.

And now—

Mydei exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. What the fuck did I do?

Your body shifted slightly against him, a sleepy hum escaping your lips. Mydei stiffened, every muscle in his body locking up as you nuzzled closer, completely unaware of the absolute crisis he was having.

He needed to move. He needed to get out of here before you woke up and turned this into something ten times worse than it already was. But his body betrayed him, his hand hovering over your back, tempted—fuck—to pull you closer instead of pushing you away.

Mydei swallowed hard, his heart hammering as he stared down at you, still sleeping soundly against his chest. The memories of last night were coming back in flashes—your legs wrapped around his waist, your moans gasping his name between teasing laughter, the way you clenched around him so tight it nearly drove him insane.

And then, the final moment—his body tensing, his breath hitching as he spilled deep inside you, your nails digging into his back as you took every drop.

His stomach tightened at the thought, at the realization of what he’d done.

He had creampied you.

Raw.

No protection.

Mydei squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the heat rising in his body at the memory of how good you felt, how he hadn’t even thought about pulling out—how maybe, deep down, he hadn’t wanted to.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his mess of golden hair.

You stirred, your body shifting slightly against him, your breath warm against his skin. Mydei froze, holding his breath as your fingers twitched against his stomach, as your nose scrunched up in that sleepy way you always did when you were about to wake up.

And just like that, his moment of peace was gone.

Your eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, your brows furrowing slightly as your gaze slowly focused on him.

For a second, there was only silence.

Then—

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

Mydei let out a sharp, humorless laugh, pressing a hand over his face. “That’s my line, dumbass.”

You shot up—only to immediately whimper, your thighs clenching shut. Mydei’s gaze flickered down, and there it was—his cum, thick and sticky, already starting to drip out of you.

His cock twitched.

Your eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god.”

Mydei exhaled sharply, already bracing himself for the absolute nightmare that was about to unfold. Because if last night had been a mistake…

Then why the fuck did he already want to do it again?

“You’re staring.”

Your voice was still thick with sleep, laced with confusion and something else—something softer. But that wasn’t what Mydei was focused on. His eyes were locked onto the mess between your legs, the way his cum was leaking out of your sore, used hole, the way your thighs clenched like you were trying to hide it from him.

Cute.

“Can’t help it,” Mydei murmured, voice low, rough. His hand reached out before he could stop himself, two fingers pressing against your swollen folds, pushing his cum back inside. “Didn’t realize my dumb little rival could take me so well.”

Your breath hitched, your body twitching under his touch. “Don’t say it like that,” you mumbled, glaring at him—but the effect was ruined by the way your voice wavered, by the way your hips twitched toward his hand instead of away.

Mydei smirked. “What, don’t wanna admit how much you loved it?” He leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear, his fingers still teasing your sensitive hole. “You were begging for it last night, girl. I should’ve recorded it—”

Your whimper cut him off, and fuck, that sound went straight to his cock.

“You’re such an asshole,” you grumbled, but there was no real bite to it. Just heat. Just need.

Mydei chuckled. “And yet,” he murmured, sliding his fingers up to your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles, “you’re already soaking wet again.”

You let out a broken moan, your body betraying you completely. “S’not fair,” you slurred, your head lolling back, your thighs falling open despite yourself. “Feels too good…”

Dumb girl.

Mydei groaned, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach in one smooth motion. His body caged over yours, his chest pressing against your back as his cock slid between your thighs, rubbing against your slick folds.

“You’re so stupid when you’re fucked out,” he murmured, dragging his cock along your entrance. “So cute and dumb, letting your enemy fuck you raw.”

You whined, pushing your hips back, desperate, needy. “M-Mydei, please…”

Fuck. He was going to ruin you.

With one sharp thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, groaning at how tight you were, how perfectly your walls squeezed around him. You sobbed into the pillow, your body shuddering, overwhelmed already.

“That’s it,” he muttered, gripping your hips, pulling back only to slam in deeper. “Take it, dumb little thing.”

You couldn’t speak—only moan, only whimper as he fucked you open, every thrust shoving you deeper into the mattress, into complete, brainless pleasure. Your mind was melting, your thoughts dissolving until the only thing left was him.

Mydei grinned against your shoulder, his pace rough and relentless. “Not so mouthy now, huh?” His fingers dug into your hips, his other hand pressing down on your belly, feeling how deep he was. “Maybe I should keep you like this—stuffed full and too dumb to argue with me.”

Your moan was high-pitched, broken.

Mydei groaned. “Fuck, you’re clenching—do you like being called stupid?” His hand slid between your legs, rubbing your swollen clit, making you jolt. “Bet you do. Bet you love getting fucked so hard you can’t even think.”

You could only sob in response, your body shuddering as pleasure slammed into you, your walls fluttering wildly around his cock.

“That’s it, cum for me,” he growled, snapping his hips faster. “Make a mess all over my cock, pretty.”

And you did—crying out as you came hard, your whole body going limp, twitching from the intensity. Mydei groaned, feeling you squeeze around him, milking him, dragging him over the edge—

With a sharp, shuddering breath, he slammed deep one last time, spilling inside you, filling you up until it dripped out around his cock.

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the faint, sticky noises of his cum still leaking from your used hole.

Then, Mydei chuckled, breathless. “Guess that makes two nights in a row.”

You groaned into the pillow. “Shut up.”

[lymtw]

Rough Day

Thinking of Toji coming home to you after a rough day at work. On a normal day he would call out to you the second he steps through the front door, but today he's not in the mood to be loud. He silently walks through the living room, into the hallway where he directs himself towards the bedroom, where he knows you are. He's dirty and sweaty and there's somebody's blood drying on the fabric of his shirt. Luckily, it's just a small area. You won't spot it on your own, and Toji won't be showing it off to you.

The door creaks open and you're there, lying on your stomach, in bed. You're distracted by your phone, too zoned into your own serene little world to notice that Toji was home. He can smell your shampoo and the lotion you used, in the air, the smell getting stronger as he makes his way towards the bed. His stealthiness is a threat, never to you, but the fact that you didn't turn around once really had him thinking about your safety.

He didn't waste another second just looming over you. Slowly, he crawled onto the bed and before you managed to shriek or say something about how he scared the crap out of you, he laid right on top of you, crushing you and revoking your ability to make any sounds but groans under his weight.

"Toji?" you call, once you get accustomed to the pressure your bear of a man added onto you. He doesn't respond, and instead buries his face into the crook of your neck, getting a deeper whiff of the scent that emanated off of you. "Toji?" You try again, turning your head slightly.

"You smell pretty. Could smell you the second I walked in the room," he hums, inhaling your clean scent.

"Yeah, I just showered. Don't you wanna go get cleaned up, too? Dinner's ready."

"Of course I do. Thanks, doll. Just let me have you like this for a sec."

You had no argument for that. You laid there, flat on the bed beneath him, and allowed him all the time necessary to relax. He was quiet, and his hold on you was a little tighter than usual. That wasn't what brought you to your conclusion, but it was clear that he wasn't his usual self.

Something about being able to wrap himself around your entire body was comforting to Toji. It made him feel like he was keeping you safe, like he was the soft blanket you cover yourself with at night, rather than a man who comes home with blood stains on his clothes.

You were the one thing he was positive he would come home to, and that was enough. You were more than enough for him. He always felt there was no way to pay back for every day you spent accepting him as he is. All those nights when you let him hold you, even after he made you cry. Those mornings when you woke up with a heavy heart, alone, only to find out through a text message that he had to leave for work early.

Undeserving was a small word to Toji. It was you still finding it in yourself to give him the warmest of welcomes every day—a greeting normally dedicated to heroes, that made him obsess over finding a word that was more fitting for him.

He loves you and he's serious about it. He knows the infinite range of his love for you and regardless of how small his heart seems compared to yours, you decorate every inch of space within it, and when it reaches its maximum capacity, you go to his head. The space is littered with images of you, like posters on a wall. The space is so crowded that some of them are hanging on to the walls of his mind for dear life. There are images of your guilty smile after you knock a glass of water over and it shatters, another of the look on your face as you try not to laugh when he tries on a shirt that clearly isn't his size, and memories of the times when you would pamper him when he wasn't feeling well, insisting on still sleeping next to him, incase he needs something in the middle of the night.

It all adds up to this clingy behavior he reserves for you. When the day treats him like trash being kicked around by everyone on a sidewalk, he comes home to appreciate the one who embraces him and unconditionally loves him.

He knows his weight on your back must be unbearable and he definitely doesn't smell as good as you, either, but he can't move. Not yet.

"I could stay like this forever, doll. Would you let me?" He smiles for the first time in a bit when he sees your shoulders shaking, paired with the sweet sound of your laugh.

"Of course, baby. I'd willingly stay like this for you."

And he groans. It's like a form of cuteness aggression, but it derives from the fact that he can't believe that you're with him, and that you're so saintly, and he can't for the life of him stop thinking of you. He kisses your jaw and strongly resists the urge to bite your cheek and squeeze you until you can't breathe at all.

His breathing quickens a little when he thinks of how detrimental it would be to his life if you walked away for good, one day. Things are so good, but he can't help but think that the next time they aren't, it'll be an enormous hit to everything he has with you. Maybe you're waiting for the next argument to drop everything. Maybe you secretly can't stand him. Maybe you don't need him. Maybe-

His overthinking is cut off by a low growl, followed by a nervous giggle that is muffled by the pillow you buried your face in.

"Sorry," you lift your head to say, fighting the laughter bubbling in your throat.

"You're hungry." There's a barely there crease between his brows. It's late and your stomach is growling. He doesn't want to think about you skipping meals.

"I wanted to wait for you," you chirp, turning your head the slightest bit to give him a beaming smile.

"Baby." The second he sees the corners of your lips begin to straighten out, he stifles the scolding he was about to hit you with. "I can't even be mad at you. Have you eaten anything at all today?"

Your silence was all he needed to understand that you were running on fumes. He sighs, mentally cursing you for being so careless with yourself for his sake.

"I'm gonna shower, and you're gonna meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes. Will you survive that long? I don't know, but you have to." He kisses your temple a couple times, rolling off of you and directing himself to his clothing drawers.

Your lungs expand and you feel so much lighter without his weight on you. You flip over onto your back, stretching for a moment before you turn over to watch Toji rummage through his drawers. His sixth sense kicks in and he can feel your gaze on the back of his head.

"I love you, doll." He stands still, waiting seconds too long for your response. He turns his head to the side, facing the blank wall of the room. His ear is turned in your direction as to not miss the sound of your voice.

You sit up, prepared to say it back with every fiber of your being. You can see his fingers tapping against the top of the dresser. You don't mean to bring unease to his mind, your intention is to do the exact opposite. "I love you so, sooo much, Toji."

He lets the clothes he picked out plop onto the dresser, and he turns around to head back to you. He holds your gaze until he reaches you. It's the first good look you've gotten at him since he got home. You can't help but smile at the familiar sight of those green eyes and that pretty nose, and those scarred lips. He never failed to make you swoon, even during times when there was a lack of words.

His hands cupped your jaw before he leaned down to kiss you. The duration of his kisses weren't thought out, let alone planned. What was supposed to be ten minutes until you met him in the kitchen, turned into double the amount of time, because he wouldn't let you go. You were just as guilty for the delay, feeling so much ease and comfort with the words he imbedded into his kisses. Eventually you started telling him to go, between kisses and laughter, reminding him that you would be there when he got out. He ignored you until your stomach growled again.

"Fine," he grumbled, placing one more peck on your lips before he left you alone.

[kikidoul]

── GAME OF PATIENCE.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 양정원 x fem! reader content established relationship non-idol au college/university au ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content petnames used mean dom! jungwon cock sucking brief and discussed somnophilia reader trying to seduce jungwon twice HEH rough sex degrading kink crying pussy eating fingering begging squirting lmk if i miss anything else . . .!? 2417 — mlist. req

note. and with this, the next few works will be heeseung.... taglist. @tfwbluu

The first time it happened was in the morning. It started when you woke up without your alarm going off, much to your happiness. Having pulled countless all-nighters to study for your examinations for the past few weeks means you deserved a much-needed uninterrupted sleep. You turned, the sheets softly rustling and you were granted the sight of your boyfriend sleeping peacefully, unaware of your dilemma. You clenched your thighs when your mind wandered to the wet dream you had, about how Jungwon had you bent over the nearest surface, ruthlessly pounding into you. 

You had discussed this with him before. This refers to waking him up in a different way. Which was why you stealthily crawled towards him, resting yourself between his parted legs. Thankfully, Jungwon doesn’t sleep with pants on, only wearing his boxers—meaning there was one less article of clothing to remove. You pulled it down, mouth watering at the sight of his soft cock—something you were determined to change. 

Leaning in while tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear, you gave kitten licks to the tip, eyes focused on his face. He squirmed, cutely scrunching his nose but didn’t wake up. Now motivated, you took him in your mouth, moving forward until you felt the tip hitting the back of your throat. Your free hand moves to fondle with his balls as you begin bobbing your head. 

“Ngh, wh-what,” he stirred to live, looking down at you with half-opened eyes, only to sigh in pleasure, tossing his head as you traced the veins protruding from the side of his cock.

“Baby—hah, st-stop,” he protested, and you released his cock, worried that you had done something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

“Nothing, I’m just too tired for this. Maybe later,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to come up. 

You sighed, disappointed but nodded in understanding. Just like you, Jungwon had pulled lots of all-nighters to get through his examinations and as much as you were tempted to get railed into oblivion, you wanted your boyfriend to get as much rest as he could. You pulled his boxers back up, crawling into his awaiting arms and rested your head on his chest. 

“Although, can’t say I was expecting that,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. 

~ 

The second time it happened was when Jungwon was making instant noodles for the both of you. You entered the kitchen, dressed in one of his oversized shirts that reaches your upper thighs. You didn’t bother wearing any shorts, leaving you prancing around your home with your panties showing, if you were to bend over. You wrapped your arms around his slender waist, resting your chin on his left shoulder. 

“Wonie, can we fuck?” You asked, the bluntness of your question startled him, nearly making him drop the chopsticks he was holding.

“N-now?” He stuttered, glancing at you while he continued to stir the noodles. 

You whined, burying your face in the crook of his neck, hands sneakily sliding down—bypassing the hem of his shorts and boxers, boldly wrapping your hands around his cock. He hissed, the sound not going unnoticed by you. 

“Please? I want you so bad? Need you to fuck me real good,” you continued whining, using the right amount of whineness that never fails to make him weak in the knees. 

You grinned when you heard his breath hitched in your throat, thinking you had him wrapped around your fingers. To your surprise, he ducked underneath your arms as he went to grab two bowls, leaving you there, eyes wide open with disbelief written all over your face. Jungwon laughed at your bewildered expression. 

“Sorry princess, but we’ve to eat first. Maybe later though,” he patted your head. 

You grumbled a string of curses under your breath as you helped to grab the utensils while he set the table. “That’s not fair. I’ll rather eat your dick than noodles.” 

“(Name)!”

~ 

The third time it happened was when you were getting ready for dinner and it seems like your boyfriend too, had reached his limit. You and Jungwon had made plans to meet with the rest of your friends, wanting to get together after your examinations were over. After all, what better way is there to celebrate other than eating good food and enjoying the company of your friends? However, your boyfriend wasn’t pleased with this. He grumbled, acting like a child as he remained laying on the bed, face-planted into your pillow to inhale your lingering scent. 

You, on the other hand, were almost done. You stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and Jungwon pushed himself up, throat going dry at how stunning you looked. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of you, not even when you stopped before him, snapping your fingers in front of his face. His sweatpants tightened, eyes drinking in your figure. Your lips were moving but he couldn’t comprehend a single word you were saying. 

“...ie, hello? Earth to Jungwon? Are you still there?” You frowned, waving your hand before his face. 

He snapped back to reality, shooting his hand out to grab you by the wrist and tugged you forward. You let out a startled yelp, falling onto Jungwon’s lap, only to land in an awkward position. Your hand was sprayed on his chest while the other was held over his shoulder, wrist captured by his own hand. Jungwon had to lean back to avoid knocking his head against yours. Your breath hitched in your throat at how his eyes darkened. 

“Wonie?” You murmured, your heart nearly stopped beating for a second as he ducked his head to plant kisses along your neck, only to stop at a certain area that he knew you’re sensitive. You shivered when you felt him licked, sucked and bit your skin, undoubtedly leaving a hickey behind. 

“Ngh—W-Wonie, st-stop,” you whimpered. But despite your words, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling your body growing hotter as he pushed your dress up and up, until the fabric rested on your hips. 

Jungwon only moved away when he was satisfied, his thumb tracing the newly-formed hickey on your neck. “You’ve no idea how you make me feel. Wearing something like this, in front of everyone else. It’s like you’re asking to be fucked.” 

You mewled at his crude words, your panties getting soaked. Your boyfriend smirked when he saw how you tried to clench your thighs. He changed your position, pushing you down onto the sheets with him hovering over you. Jungwon quickly slid his knee between your legs, gaining a moan from you when you felt him firmly pressing his knee against your clothed clit. It was by instinct that you jerked your hips forward, attempting to get some form of friction but Jungwon held you down, preventing you from moving. 

“Isn’t that right? Trying to suck my cock early in the morning and begging to be fucked in the afternoon. You’re nothing more than just a cockslut,” he sneers. 

“Wonie, please!” You begged, your clit throbbing and clenching on nothing but thin air. 

He chuckled, shifting down until he was on his elbows and rested himself in between your spread legs. “Please what, princess? Tell me what you want.”

“T-Touch me,” you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling Jungwon’s hands tracing the outline of your figure until they landed on the hem of your panties. 

Snap! 

You squeaked when he teasingly tugged at it, letting it go as it snapped firmly against your skin, making you flinch. Jungwon leaned down, blowing hot air against your clit that was shielded by the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. Your legs twitched, hips canting forward, wanting to feel his tongue on you. He pulled it down and threw the obstacle to the floor, not caring where it landed. 

“Fuck, Jungwon!” You cried out, back arching off the bed when you felt him lapping away at your clit, collecting your arousal and spreading them across your puffy folds, as if he was spreading butter on a slice of bread. 

Unlike before when he will take his time to break down your walls one by one, reducing you to a whimpering and moaning mess, this was different. You could feel how he was consuming, devouring you whole. It was like he was a predator who had finally caught its prey, never wanting to let you go. Endless sounds of moans and mewls flowed from your lips as he ate you out like he hasn’t eaten for a month. 

You gripped onto a fistful of his blonde hair, wrapping your legs around his broad shoulders. Your eyes rolled upwards as he gave a harsh suck to your clit, spreading your drenched folds with his thumbs, sliding his tongue deeper in, reaching places where you thought it was impossible to. Jungwon had loosened his grip on your hips, allowing you to buck your hips into his greedy mouth—like you were riding his face. 

The bedroom was filled with the lewd sounds of your boyfriend slurping, licking and eating you out along with your shameless sounds. You felt like you were floating, your muscles tightened, heat pooling in your stomach—like a rubber band threatening to snap into half. You tried to say something, anything but you couldn’t. Not when Jungwon delivered the final blow in the form of gently nipping the hood of your clit with his teeth. The extra simulation and brief pain was enough to tip you over the edge, squirting over the sheets and your boyfriend’s awaiting mouth. 

Your legs fell off his shoulders, a thin layer of sweat clinging onto your skin as you panted to catch your breath. Jungwon lifted himself up, his lips and chin glistened, covered in your slick. You gulped when he wiped them away with the back of his hand, licking them off his fingers with his own tongue. 

“You taste divine, princess,” he coos, your ears flushing red. He made quick work of his clothes, getting to his knees as he grabbed his cock, pressing the tip to the slit of your cunt, moving in circles to collect the remains of your slick after you had squirted. 

“Oh,” you whined, digging your fingers into the sheets. “Wonie, please—fuck!” 

Jungwon ignores your words, eyes fixated on how your walls are trying to suck him in—a sign of how desperate you are to have something inside you. As much as Jungwon wants to give you—his pretty girl, what you want, he wants you to beg. He wants you to burst into tears, pleading for his cock to fill you up. And at the same time, he wants to ruin you. Which was why Jungwon moved to slip and rubbed the tip of his cock, teasing your hole for a few seconds, only for him to pull out of your soft, warm, velvety walls. 

You squirmed, tears of frustration prickling your eyes—frustrated at how your boyfriend was being a tease, blurring your vision. “Inside, please, please, please!” 

“You’re acting like a desperate whore, you know that? I don’t think you deserve it, not after what you’ve put me through,” Jungwon grinned, the sight anything but heartwarming, creating a sense of dread.

Whining, you batted your eyelashes at him while giving him your best impression of doe-like eyes. “Please, Wonie?” 

His features softened, flashing you a loving smile. “You’ll have to try harder than that, princess.” 

“Please? With a cherry on top?” You continued, maintaining the act. 

“Good enough,” he hums, not letting you register his response and slammed his cock in in one, quick and powerful thrust, instantly filling you up with his cock. 

Your mind reeled at how full you felt, the tip of his cock grazing against your cervix. Jungwon groaned at how your walls instantly clenched onto his cock, not wanting him to pull out. He swore he could have cum right there and then, with how hard you were gripping onto him. You let out a shriek when he pounded into you without warning, slowly pushing your body up, towards the headboard. 

“Fuck—Mo-More—hah, ngh! Please, pleasepleaseplease!” You sobbed, getting drunk on the intoxicating and addictive feeling of his cock smoothly sliding in and out of you, repeatedly abusing the same spot, over and over again until you were seeing stars in your vision. 

Jungwon rested his hand on your stomach, where a faint but evident bulge was shown. “You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Good for letting me fuck and use you for my own pleasure. Wonder how our friends will react if they were to know how desperate you are for my cock.” 

You outright sobbed at his words, making your mind spinned. Jungwon chuckled at how fucked out you already were. You couldn’t muster a proper sentence, tossing your head back with breathless pants and “ah, ah, ah” falling from your parted lips. To him, no words could describe how gorgeous you looked in your current state. 

The previously neat and pristine dress was now filled with wrinkles, beyond salvation. The straps had fallen, resting along your shoulders. Your breasts spilled from the dress, bouncing with every movement. Your styled hair was messed up, spread out beneath you like a halo. The makeup you wore was now smudged with tears staining on your face. Seeing how wrecked and ruined you were, Jungwon groaned, quickening his pace as he brutally snapped his hips against yours, eager to make you cum for the second time. 

“J-Jungwon, c-comi—” You muttered, only to moan as Jungwon leaned down, capturing your left nipple in his mouth. He teasingly nipped it and his action was rewarded with you clamping down on his cock, making him groan. The vibration against your chest was enough to tip you over the edge. 

Your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm, pathetically squirting. You whimpered as Jungwon followed suit, releasing inside you, pumping full of his cum. He collapsed on top of you, eliciting an undefined squawk and you weakly smacked his shoulders, groaning at how your body fluids and sweat were now mixed together. 

“Get off, you’re heavy,” you grumbled, not making any move to push him off despite your words. 

Jungwon lazily rolled off of you, laying on his back beside you. “That’s not what you should be saying to your boyfriend after he blew your back out.” 

You scrunch your nose. “Never say that again.”

“But it’s the truth” 

“YANG JUNGWON!”

[oliviaglumac]

Crawling back to you

Paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

Requested : no

Genre : hurt/comfort

Summary : A couple’s heated argument leads to hurtful words and a temporary rift, but after a night apart, heartfelt apologies and vulnerability bring them back together stronger than before.

“Well, Nico, it’s not my fault you’re on a losing streak!” I yelled, my voice cracking with frustration. “So don’t take it out on me!”

“Yeah, well, it isn’t your fault,” Nico shouted back, his tone sharp, “but you could be a little more supportive! I’m sorry I can’t be at your beck and call every fucking second—I have a life too, you know that, right?”

That was the last straw. This was our third fight in a row, and I couldn’t take it anymore. My patience snapped.

“Oh, so now I’m the problem because I want some attention?” I shot back. “I’m sorry, Nico, but I have a life too!”

“You are such a bitch!” he yelled harshly, his words slicing through me.

My breath caught in my throat as tears burned behind my eyes. I swallowed them back, standing tall even though I felt like I might crumble. “Fine. If that’s what you think of me, then we’re done. I’m leaving in the morning.”

I grabbed a pillow from our shared bed and a blanket, storming out to the couch without another glance. I placed the pillow down, lay my head against it, and finally let the tears fall. I sobbed quietly into my hands, disbelief and heartbreak washing over me. How had things gotten so bad?

A noise from the kitchen woke me hours later. The faint clatter of dishes and shuffling footsteps pulled me from my restless sleep. I sat up groggily. “Nico?” I called out, my voice hoarse.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied softly. His voice sounded raw, scratchy—like he’d been crying.

He stepped into the living room, his expression weary. Without a word, I moved my legs to make room for him on the couch. He sat down beside me, and after a moment, he gently pulled my legs over his lap, the gesture familiar but hesitant.

“Look, Y/N,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let what’s going on with the team affect our relationship. You’re not a bitch. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met. Please don’t leave. I don’t know where I’d be without you—you’re my rock.”

His puffy, red-rimmed eyes glistened with unshed tears, and the sincerity in his words broke something inside me.

I sat up, reaching for his hand. “Nico, I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. Can we promise to never fight like this again?”

“Never again,” he whispered. He leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on my temple before wrapping his arm around me and pulling me close.

I let myself melt into his embrace, the tension and hurt from the night slowly fading away. For the first time in what felt like days, I felt at peace.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

hi !! how about jun ho x reader where on halloween in s2 when he was supposed to be helping gi-hun and the others track down the front man, he finds reader is actually at the bar partying with friends and is super drunk getting hit on and touched by someone else so he has to decide between helping gi-hun or reader??

Lucky

Hwang Jun-ho x reader

oh, I loved writing this! I feel like it’s so refreshing to read a sg fanfic not taking place in the games, hope you like it as much as I do!

Word count: 0,7k

Warnings: none

requests are open!

Nothing was going as planned. Not only was he not supposed to enter the bar at all but Jun-ho also didn’t expect you to be there. Just when he was frantically trying to wake up his knocked out colleague at the bar, he saw you, neon lights reflecting in your hair, eyes dreamily squinted, hips swinging to the beat.

It’s been a while since you two saw each other. About three years. But Jun-ho felt the wound of your breakup more than ever as he was staring at you longingly, seeing you so free and happy. That’s what he wanted you to be. But a part of him, a stupid and selfish part, was still yearning for your company.

When Jun-ho began the search for his brother In-ho, he didn’t want to bother you with it at all. All he needed was your warm embrace when he got back home from another useless day of searching. But as things got more serious, he knew there were only two ways how to handle your relationship - either endanger you but have you by his side through it all or ensure your safety by letting you go.

And although he sometimes still woke up at night, scared and alone, reaching for the ghost of your hand, he knew he did the right thing. As much as it was killing him.

His phone vibrated - Gi-hun’s location changed to the alleyway next to the bar. With a sigh, Jun-ho was about to spare you a last look before turning away but he froze in place, blood turning cold. That was a stranger’s arm around your waist. And although you looked drunk enough, the tension in your body seemed to scream that the man definitely wasn’t your boyfriend.

Before he knew what he was doing, Jun-ho turned off his intercom and rolled up his sleeves as he pushed his way through the crowd. Without a thought, he gripped the guy’s collar, tearing him off of you.

“Hey!!” he screamed angrily, hands forming into fists. Before he got the opportunity to fight him, Jun-ho punched him in the throat, feeling satisfied as the man fell on the ground, wheezing for air while grasping his neck.

You just stared at Jun-ho, shock visible in your features.

“Jun-ho?” you whispered, the sound lost to the music. He could only stare at how your lips mouthed his name, something he never thought he would behold again.

“Y/N,” he mouthed back, a sad smile forming on his lips. He felt tears welling behind his eyes but fought hard to not let you see them. He caused you a lot of pain many years ago, the least he could do was feign that he got over you.

In your drunken state, he shouldn’t have been surprised that you immediately grabbed his hands. “Jun-ho…” you said again and for a second he thought it might have been a prayer coming off of your lips. He was yours, right then, right there. He would crawl for you, weep for you, do anything for you. And then he felt your warm hands squeeze his and he just couldn’t function anymore. His heart was beating furiously, beating for you only.

And then you started weeping. You came closer, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him tightly into the embrace as your body shook with heartbreaking sobs.

“Don’t cry sweetheart.” Jun-ho said into your hair, holding the back of your head in one hand, the small of your back in the other. He felt his own tears rolling down his cheeks, determined to keep them hidden from you. The smell of you was driving him insane as it was all those years ago - apparently, you still used the expensive perfume he used to buy you whenever you ran out of it.

“Just so you know,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “I come here every week only because I hope you’ll somehow be here.” With that you pulled away, searching for something in his expression. “Pathetic, right?” you added self consciously, laughing nervously at yourself.

“I thought I was too late,” Jun-ho said, leaning his forehead against yours. To hell with everything else. He had you right at that moment all for himself and you were all that mattered. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N, all those years we spent apart but I thought-“

“You are late,” you clarified, a smile spreading across your features, tears still running down that perfect face. “But lucky for you, Jun-ho, I’ve been waiting.”

Oh, he was lucky indeed.

[greengoblinswifey]

Crawling Back to You- Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— you overhear a conversation rafe has with his kook friends and get your payback.

warnings— angst, arguing, sub!rafe, oral(f receiving), Y/N standing on big business!

a/n— based off rafe’s conversation about sofia in s4 ep 3 I listened to Do I Wanna Know? by Artic Monkeys to get this idea <3

You were heading over to Rafe and his friends when you overheard it- him badmouthing you to them. It was casual enough, but his words cut deep.

“I’m not living with a pogue. Just ‘cause we’re together doesn’t make her my girlfriend,” he said, his voice laced with arrogance.

You froze just around the corner, your breath catching in your throat. Your heart sank. Was that how he really felt about you? Was everything between you a lie?

You couldn’t listen to any more. Turning on your heel, you rushed back to his house, your mind swirling with hurt and anger. You collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all. Part of you wanted to scream, but instead, your body gave in to exhaustion, and you drifted off into a restless sleep.

Hours later, you woke to the feeling of lips pressing against your neck. Rafe was back, sliding into bed beside you, nuzzling your skin like nothing was wrong. You stiffened, jerking awake, your emotions still raw. Without a word, you slipped out of bed and went straight to the bathroom.

Confused, Rafe sat up. “Hey, what's wrong?” he called out, his voice heavy with irritation, but you ignored him. The hot water from the shower didn’t wash away the sting of his words. As you got dressed and headed into the kitchen to make something to eat, Rafe followed close behind, his frustration building.

“What's going on? Why are you ignoring me?” he demanded, standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he watched you move around the kitchen like he wasn’t even there.

You gritted your teeth, his words from earlier still echoing in your mind. Every second that passed without you acknowledging him only made him angrier.

“Look at me!” he snapped, stepping closer. “Say something!”

You paused, your hand tightening around the spatula, and then you spun around to face him. “Oh, so you’re not living with a pogue, huh?”

Rafe blinked, caught off guard. “What are you on about?”

“Stop bullshitting me, Rafe. I heard you,” you snapped, your voice trembling from both anger and hurt.

He stiffened. “Were you spying on me?”

That was it. You snapped. “Shut the fuck up, Rafe! Stop deflecting!” you yelled, your voice raw with emotion. “You won’t have to worry about living with this pogue anymore, since I’m not your girlfriend. I’ll make it easy for you.”

You turned, storming up the stairs toward the bedroom, your heart pounding as you began to pack your things. Rafe was hot on your heels, his voice almost desperate now.

“Wait, no, please! Don’t go,” he pleaded, his voice wavering as he reached for your arm. “I didn’t mean it. I need you, okay? I need you.”

You kept packing, refusing to look at him.

“I don’t care if you’re a pogue. That’s not what I meant! You’re… you’re everything to me. I just-” He cut himself off, his eyes glossing over, the panic clear on his face. “Please don’t leave. I’ll do anything.”

You stopped, finally turning to look at him. The sight of him, almost on the verge of tears, was something you’d never seen before. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by fear.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t get it, do you? You can’t just say whatever you want and expect me to stay. You made your bed, Rafe. Now you can lie in it.”

He stood there, hands clenched at his sides, begging you with his eyes.

“Please baby, I’ll do anything. You’re all I have.”

You turned to him, your expression unreadable. He was rambling, his voice shaky as he begged you not to leave, but you cut him off with a cold, calm voice.

“Get on your knees.”

Rafe blinked, shocked, as if he hadn’t heard you right. “What?”

“I said get on your fucking knees,” you snapped, your voice sharp as you snapped your fingers. “Are you deaf or something? Do what I said.”

Hesitantly, he sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. You stared down at him, his desperation clear in his face, his usual arrogance wiped clean.

“Now beg me to stay,” you ordered, your voice dripping with disdain. His lips parted, his face red with humiliation, but he did as you commanded. From across the room, he started to beg, pleading with you not to leave, telling you how sorry he was, how he didn’t mean anything he said.

“Crawl to me,” you demanded next, and without hesitation, he obeyed. Slowly, he crawled across the floor to where you stood, his hands gripping your legs, holding on as if you were the last thing keeping him afloat. He kept begging, his words desperate, pleading for you to stay with him, calling himself stupid, apologizing over and over again.

You laughed in his face, a cold, mocking sound, and his face turned red, embarrassment flooding his features.

“If you really want me to stay, then show me how sorry you are. Eat my pussy like you mean it,” you ordered, your voice cutting through his humiliation like a knife. “Make me cum, and maybe—maybe I’ll stay.”

His eyes widened at the command, but he didn’t hesitate. As you lay back on the bed, Rafe knelt between your legs, his lips immediately working against you, trying to show just how desperate he was to keep you there. His mouth moved with a fervor you’d never seen before, but even though it felt good, you held back, refusing to let him know just how close you were.

“Please,” he begged, his voice muffled as he continued. “Please, baby. Cum for me. I’m so sorry.”

Finally, you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your body gave in to the pleasure, and you came, his name on your lips. He looked up at you, relief washing over his face, as if he thought he had won.

“You’re gonna stay, right?” he said, his voice breathless, almost shaking. “Thank you, baby. I’ll never—”

But you cut him off with a harsh laugh, sitting up and pushing him away. “You really think that was enough?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You really think I’m gonna fucking stay after what you said? That you can disrespect me behind my back and I’ll just forgive you because you ate me out?”

His face fell, the realization hitting him hard. You stood up, wiping yourself off, completely unfazed by the look of devastation in his eyes.

“I’m done, Rafe. I’m not gonna look like a fool staying with you after what you said. You think I’m gonna let you disrespect me again? Fuck your entitled, spoiled ass. My dream man would never treat me like this.”

Rafe was on his knees, tears brimming in his eyes, but you didn’t care. You were sick of him, sick of his bullshit. “Stay by yourself,” you spat, grabbing the last of your things. “Since you scrutinize pogues so much, you can live your lonely life without one because that’s what I’ll always be.”

He was still on the floor, almost in tears, as you zipped up your bag and headed for the door. Even as you walked away, he was clinging to your legs, still begging, but you ignored him. You pushed him off, and finally, he let go, left kneeling on the floor, pathetic, broken, and alone—as you walked out of his life for good.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Marks

Hi all! I wrote this for @jeguluskinktoberr but it's not explicit so I decided to post it here as well! Slightly NSFW! TW for an unnamed character giving a nonconsensual lovebite, but it's very quick.

“Absolutely not,” Regulus admonished, pushing eager lips away from his neck, rolling his eyes frustratedly.

The boy who had been happily kissing him a second ago pulled back, sending him a glare. “What? Why?”

“No marks,” Regulus stated, frowning. “Absolutely not.”

The mood was lost after that.

-

It was a rule of his. He’d never, not once allowed a boy to leave a mark on his body. Perhaps it was some sort of unresolved trauma, founded from years of not having control over his own life. Maybe it was just stubbornness and not wanting to be ‘owned’ by anyone. Either way, he hated the idea of bearing a physical sign that he’d allowed another person that type of vulnerability and power.

Barty and Evan teased him. As they marked each other up for the sheer pleasure of seeing who could make a hickey stay on the other longer, unabashedly biting each other’s necks in the middle of the Slytherin Common Room, Regulus kept his skin pristine. 

-

Once, he slipped. Got a bit swept up in a drunken exchange and woke up the next day with a small bruise on his neck. 

The feeling was awful. His skin crawled and goosebumps formed on the back of his neck as he looked in the mirror. He felt sick. He was marked. What would people think when people saw? That he’d let someone else in so far as to be able to do something so vulnerable? That he wanted someone to do that?

He’d almost cried.

But instead, he just found Sirius, asked for some makeup to hide the mark and held his head high, vowing to never let someone touch him like that again.

-

James Potter was not someone, though.

As they grew closer, Regulus found that somehow, the Gryffindor was able to knock down walls he didn’t even know he had. Part of him hated it. How was it that this annoying, obnoxious, overly-extroverted boy was able to make him feel so ridiculously safe? How was it that he was able to make him feel loved and valuable and free? It was insane, and there had to be a catch.

But part of him melted with it. Wanted to soak up every bit of James and never leave his side.

Never before had he wanted to belong to someone. Wanted to be vulnerable with someone.

So as James kissed gently up his neck, making him moan and arch into the touch, he couldn’t help but whisper, “More,” his voice gruff and needy.

And when he awoke to a smattering of marks in the hinge of his jaw the next day, he didn’t hide them. He smiled to himself as he walked through the halls, chuckling at the whispers that followed him around. 

Let them stare. He was too busy looking at James, anyway.