#aw + wr

[writeouswriter]

I will not reblog the discourse post even if I agree with it I will not reblog the discourse post even if I agree with it I will not reblog the discourse post even if I agree with it *screaming internally because I agree sooooo much but the tone of the post is slightly more hostile than need be so it's like yes yes yes but also hey no let's tone it down just a little okay, but to say that is discourse on its own sooo...* I will not reblog the discourse post even if I agree with it I will not—

[steel-and-fire]

"Aaah, for fucks sake!!!", he kicks a rock as hard as he can, frustrated.

"How?! I'm tanking the entire fucking swarm, how do they all get destroyed by a single undead commander!!

Completely Incompetent...!!"

Ferenir is getting absolutely sick of the terrible teammates he keeps having to work with.

[lightpickles]

[but-a-humble-selfshipper]

Also this is 100% an AU but honestly Henry and L.L.'s relationship would just be insane. Because sure very sexual and hell even fucking domestic at times but also a very toxic one bc Henry is still an awful guy and they are still in an almost "scientist and lab subject" thing too.

Worth mentioning Dave is obviously still around too but he's younger and L.L. is kinda like their step parent or something. Their relationship is probably complicated too bc he's clingy so to have someone take Henry from him is a bit negative but at the same time L.L. enjoys things he doesn't and that's a relief. L.L. has also physically fought Henry over him which Dave didn't really appreciate but that wouldn't stop them. They'd be a complicated bunch.

[athousandsuns2010]

i just had a very long phone call with my mom and tbh im so proud of how much she's grown in terms of like. acceptance.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

cause we're, y'know | k. bakugou

✮ tags ; gender neutral reader, fluff, post relationship jitters, bakugou being down bad a little bit, friends to lovers. not 18+ but minors do Not follow me.

✮ wc ; 1k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @euthymiya who gave me free reign to do whatever which i used to write corny bkg fluff... thank u for commissioning me most beloved riv <3

✮ synopsis ; bringing his friend turned lover a lunchbox is normal, alright? plenty fucking normal.

Bakugou taps his fingers along the edge of the bench he's been sitting on since evening - beating to an unsteady rhythm.

He can hear Sero's voice in the back his hand as he squeezes the wrapped bento a little closer to his torso. The shitty, sing-song teasing lilt when you and Bakugou were less then lovers but more then friends.

And now you're lovers proper, as fucking corny as he finds it. But maybe he's not finding it corny enough because he's sitting in the lobby of your office building with a bento he made by hand. There's some chatter from strangers coming in and out of your office building - the occasional ding of elevators, the passing whistle of a janitor.

The awful, loud, no good thump of his heartbeat ricocheting against his rib cage as he goes back and forth on whether or not this shit was a good idea.

He's... fucking nervous. Which is total bullshit because he doesn't have anything to be nervous about. It's not like this is the first time you and Bakugou have ever met up to eat lunch. It was just that before, he was coming to meet you as a friend.

Some part of him is thinking, so what if he's your boyfriend? Who gives a shit, anyway?

Another part of him feels so mixed about the ordeal he sort of wants to puke.

His phone buzzes from the pocket of his pants and he grabs it - your phone and contact flashing across his screen

(sent 11:12am) coming down :]

Bakugou smiles to himself, at the stupid emoticon. He thinks about just liking your reply but before he gets the chance another text follows through.

(sent 11:12am) missed you <3

He blushes almost furiously. Partially over the text but mostly from his internal reaction. Stupid. This whole thing is so stupid. He types fast.

(sent 11:14am) hurry your ass up.

That's all he can manage to say without feeling like his chest is going to collapse in on itself. He waits another minute before he hears the elevator doors ding again - a crowd of people dispersing as the doors open. He looks for you among them.

He finds you after a minute, hand waving overhead of the sea of people. He huffs, amused at how rapidly you wave your hand, and thinks about texting you again but you're close enough that he doesn't bother.

You march towards him with a renewed vigor after you aren't lost to the sea of strangers. Bakugou snorts as you hurry your way over to him, almost seeming out of breath - like you ran to see him.

"Hey,"

"Hi!" You say, chipper as always. "You're here."

"No shit."

You laugh. He's heard it before. A hundred times, a thousand maybe. It still sounds weirdly different to him.

"Did you have anywhere in mind to eat?" You ask.

Horror dawns on him at the realization you still didn't realize what's in his hand. "I'm up for anything I think. Feeling adventurous."

Your eyes are sparkling when you ask. Bakugou freezes, blue screening momentarily before taking a breath.

He holds the boxed bento out to you sheepishly, a hand scratching the back of his neck. This is way more embarrassing then he thought it'd be.

"Fuck. Whatever. Look," He says, shaking the upset off of him with a frown. " He doesn't look up at you, doesn't even want to know what he might see. Something bright enough to fucking blind him, he's sure. "Don't say shit or I'm never making you one again."

You blink owlishly before letting your eyes flicker down again at what it's in front you. There's a beat of silence between you before Bakugou sees a grin slowly creep it's way up to your face in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

You take the wrapped bento from him, assessing the weight of it in your hand as you give it a good look. You hold it up to admire it and Bakugou feels the blush crawl further down his neck.

"Stop acting like I just handed you a diamond or some shit," Bakugou says lamely, even by his own standards. Your lips form into affectionate pout.

"You made me a bento." Your lower lip trembles all too sudden and Bakugou's eyes go wide. "I love you,"

?!

Bakugou looks at you, mouth agape. You're completely serious. Nevermind the inappropriate timing or the fact this is the first time you've expressed yourself with a word so serious. He's more concerned about the almost tears at your eyes. He pulls his sleeves over his hands to wipe them from your eyes.

"Dumbass, what are you crying about? You're still in the office, get it together."

"But I love you," You say, more whine then coherent word. Bakugou feels a headache coming on.

"Yeah I got that. Am I really such a shithead me bringing you lunch is worth sobbing over?"

"You made it for me."

"Cause I ain't no punk. Anyone can pay for you you but we're," He stops himself mid way, too embarrassed to get the rest out. "Anyways whatever. It's just lunch. I just... fuckin' realized I never made it for you. Dinner and shit is one thing but we're,"

"Dating," You finish before he can. He falls victim to more blushing.

"Yeah. Whatever. This much is pretty standard, at least." He wipes another tear off your face. It's funny. Anyone else pulled some shit like this and he'd rolls his eyes. "Stop cryin' already."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't gotta say sorry either."

"But,"

"No buts. Hurry and wipe your tears before your breaks over so you don't go all puffy eyed back in the office."

You laugh through a sniffle. "They'll think my boyfriend was being mean to me, huh?"

He snorts, voice full of playful sarcasm. "Yeah exactly. I've got a great reputation to uphold and all."

"Katsuki," You say gently. He gives you a look.

"Hm?"

You lean forward, craning up just slightly to press your lips to his. Your third kiss, now. Not that he's been counting.

"Thank you and," You pull back mischievously, brows furrowing. "Revenge."

He's in so deep. Fuck.

"You're such an idiot." He says, fighting off his own feelings.

"You love me,"

Maybe he's an idiot too.

"Yeah." He says, flicking your forehead and watching you beam. "Unfortunately."

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; newlyweds.

warnings .: x reader, smut, mdni 18+, afab! reader, v! penetration, heavily unedited

.: masterlist.

simon was not thrilled when you told him you didn’t want to sleep with him before the wedding, something about it being “bad luck”. at first he didn’t understand but he was willing to oblige, sleeping in the guest room didn’t sound too bad; although he didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a cold bed while you were just a room away — but fighting with you was never a battle he won. 

except, when you clarified that you didn’t want to ‘fuck’ before your wedding, he was not having it. he couldn’t stop the baffled laugh that slipped from his lips. it didn’t make sense, you weren’t a virgin; he had the pleasure of stuffing you full of his cock many times while dating. to say he was confused was an understatement. 

but, what the bride wants, the bride gets. so weeks go by where simon has to take care of his growing problem by himself; just to tease you, and hopefully make you regret your decision, he’ll get off in bed, right before you go to sleep. 

simon will have you watch the way he tugs at his cock with need, his head tilted back with grunts and an uneven breath. his chest heaving as thick ropes of his cum spurt onto his exposed abdomen. he’ll give you a sly smirk before climbing out of bed, his boxers tugged up but hanging too low revealing his v-line. 

it takes everything in you to stick to your word, watch every night as simon adds the lewd task into his daily routine. eventually, he’s the one that breaks, the way he stumbles into your shared bedroom and finds you with a hand between your thighs – his name spewing from your lips when you catch sight of him.

he wishes he could say ‘i told you so’ when you’re begging for him, needing to relieve the ache that’s been dwelling in your tummy for so long. he takes one look at your sopping cunt and wonders how long you’ve been trying to stuff your fingers inside of you knowing that they couldn’t reach that gummy spot only he could. 

simon shakes his head with a chuckle, taking his time to settle himself between your legs. he kisses your knees, hiking them over his shoulder and winding his arms around your thighs to keep you still. with his thumbs, he’s spreading your folds – a teasing tut and tilt of the head are all you need from him to know that he’ll never let you hear the end of it. 

he has to swallow a groan, hard eyes glued to your leaking hole. your juices dribbling from your cunt and dripping onto the bedsheets. “you sure you wanna keep up with your stupid idea? i can make you feel good, take care of you the way you need.” simon asks, almost begging for you to quit being stubborn this once and let him relieve you – to let him fuck you stupid so he can spill his cum deep inside of you instead of wasting it and wiping it off of his chest with a towel. 

he just wants to feel your tight cunt wrapped around him, hear your moans as his fat tip nudges against that one spot that makes your walls flutter around his cock. simon’s rutting his hips into the mattress, too lost in his lewd thoughts to hear you reject his suggestion. when he does he’s dropping his head with a low growl. 

he never thought he would hate your friends, but he could kill the person who told you about this stupid suspicion. simon is a good boyfriend, he’ll show you how good of a husband he will be too. reluctantly accommodating to your wishes, he stuffs his fingers inside of you instead of his throbbing cock.

oddly enough, he finds himself loving this more. the way your slick coats his hand – his engagement ring. simon is moaning at the sight, his simple soon-to-be wedding band glistening in the dim light as he finger fucks your tight hole. 

“aw, honey. s’too much?” he coos, curling his fingers inside of you and pressing his thumb to your clit. he nips at the inside of your thigh and grins at the way your legs tremble, your back arched off the mattress. with his free hand he wraps it around your wrist, squeezing it lightly so you’d loosen your tight grip on the bedsheets below. intertwining your fingers with his, he works you up to another orgasm, talking you through it.

“just like that, baby.” “cum all over my fingers, soak this pretty lil’ ring.” 

as much as he enjoys fingering you with his ring on, he loves it when you take a bit of control and take care of him the same way. rubbing over his clothed erection with your left hand, the big diamond on your engagement band looking small next to his sore, hard cock. 

simon’s eyes flutter when you squeeze his shaft, precum leaking from his slit and slowly dribbling over your fingers – over your ring, coating the big diamond. he’ll guide your hand up and down his shaft urging you to go quicker, he loves the way your soft hands feel compared to his calloused ones.

 he’s bucking his hips upwards into your hand, his head tilted back while he’s whining desperately. simon normally keeps his noises under control but he hasn’t felt your touch in so long.

“fuck, a-ah. can’t wait to marry you and fuck you right.” 

his breath hitches when you squeeze his angry red tip, the cool metal of your ring rubbing against his slit. with a deep groan he’s cumming all over your hand; watching with wide eyes, the way your fingers play with his hot, sticky cum. 

after your wedding ceremony, simon drags the both of you into the bathroom. shamelessly, he’s bending you over the sink, unzipping his trousers, and hiking your wedding dress up. 

“si, we can’t. people are waiting for us.” you squeal when he snaps the garter against your thigh, his rough hands squeezing your hips and pulling your thong down. simon only rolls his eyes, leaning down and spitting on your exposed pussy. he rubs his cock between your folds, using his spit as a lubricant.

“they can wait, m’gonna take care of my wife first.”

how could you say no, especially to your husband?

AN: i know nothing about weddings or marriage, but i heart hubby si

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 4

Part Four of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: social anxiety, self-doubt, drinking, more touchy-touchy, reader thinks about sexual acts

In celebration of 200 followers, this part has way more than 650 words. More like 1600. :)

Conversation flowed easily with them despite their sole focus being on you. At some point, Kyle’s hand had drifted onto your thigh, fingers pressing into the flesh gently. John’s arm had slipped from the back of the booth and now rested around your shoulders. You couldn’t be sure, but it seemed Johnny couldn’t keep his feet still and kept tapping yours under the table. The only one who couldn’t seem to relax was Ghost, sitting almost across from you. 

His eyes never left you and he mainly seemed to communicate in grunts. At least, he was drinking this time, his glass now empty of his own whiskey. You were careful not to drink too much, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of these beautiful men. But it didn’t keep you from relaxing and feeling the warmth of the two next to you. 

Pulling out your phone, you checked the time and groaned. “I really should be going. It’s been great,” you announce, looking to Kyle to move so you could slide out from the booth. “Aw come on. We’re having so much fun. Just a wee longer?” Johnny asks and you turn to him, finding yourself giving in almost immediately. Damn the puppy dog eyes. 

“Only a bit longer,” you concede and relax back into the seat. This time when Kyle’s hand lands on your thigh, it’s higher and the heat is searing through your jeans. You let out a soft sound, biting your lip as his hand starts slowly caressing your thigh up and down. He’s not even looking at you when you look up, already deep in conversation with Johnny about some sports game you had no clue about. 

John’s arm settled back over your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer so his hand hovers over your breast and you can feel the hair of his arm on your bare collarbone. Your breasts jiggle slightly with your laugh when Johnny makes a joke and you don’t miss the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly before darting back up to your face. He, at least, has the decency to blush, the faint pink color tinging his cheeks. 

When the crowd in the bar starts to thin out and you realize even your friends have left for the night, you’re yawning in your seat and now leaned completely against John with his thick arm draped over your shoulders. Kyle’s hand is now tucked between your thick thighs, the side pressed as tightly to your core as he can get it and you hope to whatever higher powers that be that he couldn’t feel the radiating heat or the damp spot that had soaked into your panties. 

“Okay, okay. I really do need to go now. My friends aren’t even here anymore and that’s saying something,” you chirp, suddenly very awake and aware that you’re in an almost empty bar with four men you’d only met that night. They all look at you like they’d rather eat sawdust than let you go and you feel a warmth creep over you. 

“Ahw, bonnie, we couldn’t let you go home on your own. Let us take you home,” Johnny chimes in, soft smile and kind eyes that hold a hint of something else in them. You swallow, looking between each of them. Your gaze lingers on Ghost for a while, noticing the man’s eyes had almost never left you.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s go. It’s not a far walk,” you reply, biting your lip at the reckless decision. These men could be serial killers and you were just inviting them to know exactly where you live. “Why don’t you let Johnny and Ghost take you home? Kyle and I can follow in our truck so they’re not stuck walking back here,” John offers, a warm smile curling up the thick mustache. 

At this point, you’re ready for bed and just want to get home. “Sounds good to me,” you reply though the words are manipulated by a yawn. All of you shuffle out of the round booth, both Kyle and John kissing the top of your head like they’d known you for years before disappearing out the door. You wrap your jacket around you again, pulling the zipper together over your belly and getting a little frustrated when it gets caught up on your shirt. 

“Lemme,” Ghost grumbled, stepping up to you and taking hold of the jammed zipper. It’s the first time he’s spoken all night and it almost stuns you how deep and growly it is. Your breath hitches as he grabs the zipper, yanking on it and subsequently making your breasts bounce as he accidentally pushes against them. He gets it undone and you mutter a bashful ‘thanks’ before turning on your heel as you finish zipping it up to your throat.

You know they’re meant to be escorting you home, but you’re out the door so fast the two men have to jog to catch up. Johnny’s arm wraps around your waist, fingers pressing into the pudge of your stomach in a way that makes you want to shrivel up. You don’t like anyone touching your stomach, but you’re warring with yourself on whether or not to move his hand, to show that kind of discomfort in front of these men. 

You choose to do so anyway, wrapping your fingers around his and lifting his arm up over your head and ducking under it, dropping it at his side. Johnny looks down at you with a furrowed brow. “Don’ like it when people touch you, do you?” he asks as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t look bothered that you’d removed his arm, but your anxiety rears its ugly head and makes you worried you’d offended him. 

“It’s not that I don’t like being touched. It-It’s…complicated. I-I don’t want to talk about it,” you manage to stammer out before picking up your speed. It’s not like you’re going to shake off your two guard dogs whose legs are easily longer than yours by several inches, but you take off anyways. 

When your building finally comes into view, you slow your pace and breathe a soft sigh of relief. Your bed was so close, just a few more yards and you could get rid of the guard dogs and curl up in bed. “Well, this is me. Thanks for bringing me home. I really appreciate it.” You were grateful that they’d walked you home. It wasn’t safe this time of night to be wandering around in this part of town. 

“We’re walking you to your door, bonnie. Wouldn’t want someone to snatch you up between here and there,” Johnny stated, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You wanted nothing more than to sink into the scent of him, warm and tingly to the nose like oranges and nutmeg, but you shook your head and backed up to the door of your building. “There’s really no need. My neighbors are great.” Lie. Absolute fucking lie. Nestor at the end of the hall on the first floor would, no questions asked, rip you from the hallway if he saw you alone. A chill went down your spine and you conceded the moment you looked into Ghost’s eyes. You didn’t have a choice if they were escorting you all the way up. 

You turned and opened the door to the building, looking down the hall to make sure Nestor was in his apartment before slipping in and letting the boys in behind you. You headed to the elevator and punched the up arrow, biting your lip as you tried not to wither under the intense stare of the man in the mask. The elevator had been the selling point for you. It was the only place within your budget that had an elevator and you weren’t about to walk up five flights of stairs multiple times a day. 

The lift dinged and you stepped inside, Ghost and Johnny slipping in behind you just to stand with their bodies pressed against your back. Unintentionally, you leaned into them before your eyes widened at your own movement and you straightened so your body pulled away slightly.

The doors dinged and opened allowing you to step out onto your floor. You headed to your unit, digging for your keys in your purse. With a ‘aha!’, you pulled them out and shoved the key into the doorknob, unlocking it. “Would you guys like to come in? I might have some whiskey left?” you offer, turning to look at them. You didn’t know why you were inviting them in, but the sense of safety you had around them had you desperate for them to stay. 

“Sure, lemme text Price and Kyle where to come. Go on in, Si-Ghost. I’ll come in in a minute,” Johnny stated, already pulling his phone out and going to stand next to the window at the end of the hall. You opened the door and allowed Ghost in, leaving it unlocked so the others could join once they arrived. 

Heading into your kitchen, you stood up on your tippy toes, reaching up so you could pull out five of your good glasses. You were looking for the last one, but it was just out of your reach. Suddenly, you felt what could only be Ghost against your back, pressing you against the counter as he leaned over you to grab the glass. 

The heat of him against your back has your thighs clenching together while you watch his thick digits wrap around the glass and you wonder briefly what they’d feel like inside you. He takes a step back once he has the cup and holds it out to you. 

You turn back to him while trying to fight off the blush coloring your cheeks. You murmur a thanks and wrap your own fingers around the glass. 

Of course, that would be when the other three burst loudly through the door.

I wasn't intending for this to become a whole story, but it's really stuck with me over the last week or so.

<- Part Three Part Five ->

[sunday-bug]

Stress Reliever

Pairing: Congressman Bucky x fem gf reader

Content: smut smut smut

18+ Minors DNI (NSFW)

🖤

Synopsis:Congressman Barnes has an awful day at work and needs to relieve some stress with his favorite girl.

Enjoy a dirty-talkin’ Buck!

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Bucky calls you as soon as he’s in the privacy of his car after work.

“Hey, baby. What’s up?” You answer.

“You home yet? I need you,” he pleads.

“Yes, babe. Everything ok? You sound off,” you question.

Bucky sighs. “I had a long day, and I just want to come home and bury myself in you.” He clears his throat, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

You feel a jolt of excitement. “I’ll see you at home. I’ll be in our room.” You hang up. You wish his work wasn’t so demanding, but secretly love when Bucky took his stress out on you in the bedroom. Watching him decompress was cathartic. You undress and get under the covers.

Bucky does 15 over the speed limit all the way home, imagining all the ways he’s going to take you. When he finally reaches your place, he feels his body start to buzz with adrenaline.

You hear his footsteps on the stairs and feel yourself get wetter in anticipation as he approaches your bedroom. You move the covers back to reveal yourself to him as he walks in, already removing his belt.

“Fuck, baby. Did you start without me?” He whines, watching you touch yourself.

“Just warmed up for you,” you clarify. “You’re in charge, babe. Whatever you want. I’m yours.”

“That’s right,” Bucky whispers, now fully naked and rock hard. “Let me know if it’s too much, love.” He looks at you with dark yet loving eyes. He pulls you by the ankles to edge of the bed and kneels on the rug, diving in tongue first and holding nothing back.

He’s eating you out like a man starved and you feel every nerve ending come to life. “Oh my God, Buck!” You whimper.

“Feels good, huh, baby?” He asks, looking up at you, beard glistening.

“So fucking good,” you encourage him. He keeps it up and adds a couple fingers to the mix. It doesn’t take long before you’re on the edge. You whine and moan in pleasure.

“Come on my face,” he begs, and you do as you’re told, clutching his face between your thighs.

“I need to feel you,” he barks out, flipping you over so you’re flat on your stomach in the center of the bed. He pushes your legs together and straddles them with his own before kissing down your spine, giving you goosebumps. You feel a cold vibranium finger enter you as Bucky whispers in your ear. “I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

“Please,” you cry out. He grabs your hips and eases himself in to the hilt, letting out a groan.

“You feel so perfect wrapped around me, doll,” he admits before fucking you full force in hard, deep movements. The only sounds in the room are his moans, your arousal, and your bodies colliding with each delicious thrust. “I want to watch you come while I fuck you,” he says gruffly, flipping you back over and pulling you to the edge of the bed again. He places your legs on his shoulders and starts again with that perfect rhythm.

“You like when I come home like this, don’t you?” He implores, putting his vibranium hand around your throat, one finger in your mouth. “You love being my little fuckdoll, huh, baby?” Pieces of his dark hair fall into his face and you reach up to push them back. He kisses your wrists as you do before using his flesh hand to pin them over your head.

The sensation of being dominated by Bucky builds, and the sounds of his pleasure are about to make you come undone. He shifts his movements up ever so slightly, and you can feel it building.

“Don’t stop, Buck. Just like that, baby,” you motivate him.

“Come for me, baby girl,” he hisses.

Bucky lets your pinned arms reach for him, pulling him down for a deep kiss as you ride your orgasm out around him. He stops for a moment and pushes both of your bodies back onto the bed, putting his full weight onto you as you wrap your legs around him.

“You’re so pretty when you’re under me,” he whispers, biting your neck gently.

“I love you,” you say, kissing him.

“I love you, too,” he says. “I’m so close, babe. I’m gonna fill you up.”

You feel his movements get reckless before warmth fills your core. He takes it out and plays with it a bit before putting it back in.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls, and places you on all fours in front of him, using his own spend as lubrication. If you thought he was being rough before, this was another level. His hands were digging into your hips as he slammed relentlessly into you, breathing heavily.

“Yes, sir,” you say, fucked out and happy, ready to take whatever else he wanted to give you. Today and any day.

“That’s my girl,” Bucky sings.

[cuteandhughesy]

Congratulations on 1k followers!! It’s so deserved!

Id like to request prompts 32 + 41 with Quinn Hughes. Maybe with insecure reader ~~<3

prompt no.32: “did I stutter?” + prompt no.41: “you’re it for me.”

dating a professional athlete wasn’t for the faint of heart—that much you’ve learned in the past 7 months of being in that very position.

other wags has warned you about the fans and reporters. how boundaries will always be crossed, and even through your man is the one in the spotlight, it feel like you too are under a microscope. jealous girls will pick you apart, commenting on your weight and appearance and what colour lipstick you wear until you’re doubting yourself.

nosy reports will comment on how you treat your man. are you cooking for him? making sure his laundry is done? cheering loud enough to look supportive but not loud enough to be heard. they’ll reprimand you if you speak out or speak up for what you believe in if it doesn’t align with your views.

they’ll call you a gold digger if you don’t work, but if you do have a career, you’re selfish for not devoting all your time to your man.

look right.

act right.

perfect yourself.

at first you didn’t think much about it. for the first few months of dating vancouver canucks captian quinn hughes, it was private. soft launches that had fans knowing, but not enough proof to label what the two of you were to another. but as you got more comfortable, so did the hockey world.

girls would leave awful comments on your pictures and send you cruel messages—you’re not skinny enough, or pretty enough for quinn. you dress like a slut or sometimes you dress like a prude. you look like a bitch. you’re only dating quinn for the paycheque—even worse, you’re only dating quinn as a stepping stone for his brothers.

you tried to ignore all the negativity—from awful fans and sports blogs that have nothing better to do than comment on you—and focus on the positive comments. but even that proved to be difficult.

it started to take a toll on you, and quinn noticed. at first he waited. he didn’t want to push you into talking about something that made you uncomfortable. quinn wanted you to come to him and/or let you work it out on your own. it’s not that he didn’t care, but he knew you were strong and determined, and he knew you didn’t care about strangers opinions.

until you did start to care.

it’s almost midnight as you stand at quinn’s bathroom vanity, slowly massaging moisturizer into your skin as quinn steps out of the shower behind you. smoothly he wraps a fluffy towel around his hips, water trickling down his chest as he makes his way over to you.

you smile at him through the mirror, but it doesn’t meant you eyes. quinn’s lips tug down, pressing his warm chest against your sleep shirt covered back as he brings you into his arms.

you sigh as he starts kissing your neck. there’s no hurriedness to them, or an underlying desire, but instead the kisses or soft—intimate—and reassuring.

you gnaw on your lip, head falling back against his shoulder. “feels nice,” you whisper into the steamy bathroom. quinn doesn’t answer you, his hand slipping up your thigh and under your t-shirt, fingers skimming higher and higher up your body—feeling you. your lower half becomes more and more exposed, and your eyes narrow in on your bare skin like second nature.

thighs with imperfections that you haven’t shaved in a week.

when was the last time that bitch got a wax? poor quinn is with a beast.

your lower belly, protecting your uterus but bulging out in a way that creates a bump.

is she pregnant? she looks pregnant

your hands, hanging limp at your sides.

he’ll never put a ring on a girl who looks like that.

your breathe catches, body tensing in quinn’s hold. he pauses, raising his head from your neck and catching your eyes in the mirror. expect you’re not looking at him, but yourself.

“hey,” he starts softly, spinning you around in his hold, giving you no choice but to look at him. “what’s wrong honey?”

your lip trembles, “nothing.”

his palms slide up to your face, holding your cheeks in his gentle hands. quinn tilts your head back, just enough so that you can’t hide away by looking at the floor. his thumbs stroke your cheeks smoothly, a frown on his face. he doesn’t believe you for a second.

“it’s not nothing,” quinn says, “is it something online?”

shock registers across your face. you never told quinn about what’s happening on social media and nasty comments, mostly because you were too embarrassed to admit that it was bothering you. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

quinn’s intense gaze doesn’t falter, and neither does the soothing movement along your face. you sniffle, “it’s just…” you trail off, “am I pretty enough?” you ask after a beat, voice timid and seeking as you blink up at quinn.

“are you pretty enough?” he repeats, brows pulling tightly together in confusion. “of course you’re pretty enough. you’re more than just enough?”

“but like-“

“did I stutter?”

you blink. despite his reassurance, you can’t help the wave of insecurity that’s rushes through you. when hundreds of people all comment on your appearance, negative and condescending, over and over again, you can’t help but start to believe it.

and quinn knows what it’s like being put on a pedestal only to meet others high expectations. then getting slashed down, degraded and belittled like some toy. it’s awful, but that’s just about his game. he can’t even imagine something commenting on your appearance, knowing you can’t change it.

“they say i’m not good enough for you,” you tell him after a beat, picking at your own hands absentmindedly like a nervous tick. even hearing yourself say those things makes you shiver.

quinn shakes his head, pressing a soft long kiss to your forehead. “don’t ever believe that for a second,” he says, lips brushing your skin, “you’re it for me, okay?” 

and somehow that’s enough.

—

(unedited)

[sturniolospumpkin]

matt’s — m.s. & c.s.

part three (part one // part two // part four)

pairings: rough!dom!matt x sub!reader x chris

summary: your boyfriend matt finds out that you and his brother chris hooked up behind his back.

warnings: this part is really intense & could be triggering, please read the warnings & PLEASE read at your discretion! MDNI. contains smut, unprotected sex (p in v), rough sex, mentions of pain, mentions of safeword, spanking, slapping, choking, degrading, name-calling (bitch, slut, whore), crying, angst, mean matt, some fluff

disclaimers: this is all fiction. obviously the triplets are not like this in real life, these are just fics i write out of boredom. please do not republish my work as your own, and please credit me if using my writing as inspo <3

days had passed since you last spoke to chris. you tried your best to not think about what had happened. you did everything in your power to act normal around matt, but you’re certain he had picked up on something being wrong. you were thankful that he hadn’t questioned you though, knowing you’d have to tell him the truth. you didn’t intentionally do something behind his back, but you knew that wouldn’t matter; he would be livid as soon as he found out, and that terrified you. you’d hoped chris would change his mind about telling matt. you’d done a decent job at avoiding him, until tonight when matt asked him to watch a movie with the two of you while nick was out.

chris, who had also been avoiding you and his brother for the past few days, sat silently on the opposite side of the couch. as time passed you grew more and more unnerved, and you were fairly certain he was staring at you. you finally shift your eyes over to where he’s seated, and your suspicions are confirmed, his gaze is fixed on you. it’s the first time you’ve looked him in the eye since that day, and your heart drops—he looks awful. the dark circles under his eyes are prominent and his skin is pale; you can tell he hasn’t been sleeping. he only stares, but the look in his eyes tells you everything—he can’t keep this from matt for much longer. you quickly shift your attention back to the movie, paranoia flooding your system. you’re breathing faster now, heavier. your heart is racing, and then you hear his voice.

“matt i need to tell you something.” chris shakily announces, your eyes darting to him immediately.

matt’s eyes remain on the tv in front of him as he responds to his brother, “yeah chris?”

you shake your head repeatedly, eyes locked on chris’s, but he only nods to you in response.

“y/n and i—” he lets out a shaky breath as he struggles to finish his sentence.

matt notices the pause in chris’s words, his gaze briefly moving to chris before returning to the tv. matt’s tone is almost humorous as he obliviously responds to chris, “you and y/n what?”

“chris” you plead, voice pulling matt’s full attention from the screen, now fully focused on the conversation.

his eyes move between the two of you, concern painting his face when he notices the look on yours.

“what’s wr—” matt starts before chris interrupts.

“y/n and i had sex.” chris confesses.

your stomach drops, nausea overtaking your body as time stills. you watch matt’s face twist into a confused smile before he responds to his brother.

“yeah i know chris, i watched.” matt chuckles, not understanding what chris means.

“no, i mean we had sex. just the two of us.” chris quietly explains, releasing a shaky sigh before continuing, “but it was my fault okay, i— i got carried away and she didn’t know—it’s not her fault—she thought you were okay with it because i kind of implied that you were…”

“what?” matt’s asks in disbelief, turning to you with an expression you can’t quite read, “is he fucking serious?”

your eyes drop to your lap as you nod your head, unable to speak. silence fills the room for what feels like hours until you finally find the strength to speak.

“matty i—” you begin before he cuts you off.

“get upstairs.” he snaps.

“what? but—” you start before he speaks over you again.

“get upstairs. go to my room. both of you.” his jaw clenched as his chest heaves.

scared to make the situation worse, you obey, getting up from the couch and making your way to matt’s room. chris follows behind, both of you standing in the center of the room as matt enters.

“take off your clothes. go sit on the bed.” matt nods to you.

“matt we should—” you begin, knowing you need to talk about the situation.

“i’m not asking. take off your fucking clothes & get on the bed y/n.” his gaze is piercing, jaw clenched tightly.

you nod, ridding yourself of your clothes before making your way to the bed. matt walks over to you, taking his shirt off before unbuckling his belt. he turns his attention to chris who is still standing awkwardly in the center of the room.

“chris go sit in the chair. don’t touch yourself.” he barks before turning his attention back to you.

chris hesitates, slowly making his way to the chair next to matt’s bed.

“all fours. face chris.” matt orders.

you quickly comply, not wanting to anger him any further. you position yourself on all fours on the bed, directly in front of chris. your eyes meet each other’s, filled with the same fearful look as you try to gauge matt’s next move. chris bites his lip nervously as he flicks his gaze to his brother.

matt enters you without warning, burying his dick to the hilt. you wince at the painful stretch of his sudden intrusion. he gives you no time to adjust before thrusting in and out of you, setting a brutal pace.

“matt—” you yelp, immediately cut off.

“shut up.” he grits, continuing his thrusts. your eyes are squeezed shut, body adjusting to the pain that soon turns into pleasure. chris’s eyes are trained on you, but you stare at the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“does chris make you feel this good?” matt asks, reinforcing his question with a particularly hard thrust.

you moan, hoping it will suffice as an answer. until you feel a sharp smack on your ass and know he isn’t accepting it, “answer me.”

“no.” your respond quietly, head dropping even more to avoid chris’s eyes.

“nuh uh” matt roughly grips you by your hair, pulling your head up. your eyes shut as you wince at his grip.

opening your eyes, you find yourself face to face with chris. his eyes are heavy, a mix of defeat and frustration painting his face as he stares back at you.

“speak up slut, we couldn’t hear you.” matt spits, “i said does chris make you feel this good?”

“no.” you answer louder this time, not wanting to be reprimanded again.

“no? i didn’t think so.” matt chuckles, “who makes you feel this good huh? who fucks you the best? go ahead and tell chris for me.”

“you matt.” you comply.

the look on chris’s face breaks your heart, you silently plead for him to look away so you don’t have to see the pain you’re causing him, but his broken eyes never leave yours.

“yeah, you want me to keep making you feel good?” matt taunts, his arm wrapping around your waist to play with your clit.

you let out an involuntary moan at the added stimulation, eyes squeezing shut as you nod your head hesitantly in response to his question. you know he’s going to torture you tonight for what you did. you also know you could use your safeword and he would stop, but you want to prove to him that you’re sorry. you want to regain his trust.

“beg for it then. look at chris and beg for me to keep fucking you.” matt spits.

chris’s eyes flash to his brother above you, jaw clenched in annoyance at his brother’s tormenting. you hesistate for a moment, not wanting to upset chris any further, but matt pulls you from your thoughts with a spank. a yelp leaves your lips.

“do it.” he demands.

chris’s gaze drops from his brother back to you. mouth shut, his tongue moves across his teeth to rest inside his cheek, a clear sign of his annoyance. knowing matt is expecting a response, you mouth a “sorry” to chris before speaking aloud.

“please matt” you beg, eyes locked on chris as tears of pleasure and sadness pool along your waterline.

“please what?” matt asks continuing the assault on your clit.

“please don’t stop.” you moan.

chris’s eyes refuse to leave yours. your heart stings with a feeling of embarrassment, sadness, guilt—maybe all three. you aren’t entirely sure, but whatever it is causes tears to spill down your cheeks.

“you can do better than that. bet you begged for chris much better than that huh?.” matt grumbles.

you shake your head as best you can under his grip, continuing to beg, “don’t stop please matty, please please please i need you.”

matt drops his hand from your clit, and you whine at the loss of contact. he scoffs at you before resuming his brutal pace, dick repeatedly ramming into your cervix. it’s the hardest he’s ever fucked you.

“you are mine. do you fucking understand that?” matt asks through gritted teeth as he slams into you again.

“yes.” you cry.

“i don’t think you do. because if you did, you wouldn’t have fucked my brother.” he retorts.

his hips still for a moment, hand releasing your hair when you hear him grab something off his nightstand. your eyes are trained on chris. his jaw is tight and cheeks are rosy as his chest heaves. he shifts in his seat and your eyes land on the growing tent in his pants. when did that happen? you think to yourself before you feel the cool tip of a marker drag across the skin of your left ass cheek—matt is writing on you. you can’t make out what he’s spelling, but you feel the marker move to the right side of your ass as he continues to drag it along your skin.

“there we go.” he mutters to himself.

he places the marker between his teeth as you turn your head in an attempt to see what he wrote, only to be met with a harsh slap. face burning, you turn back to chris when you suddenly feel both of matt’s palms collide against the fresh writing on either side of your ass. you hiss at the sting before he grips your waist tightly and flips you onto your back. grabbing the marker from it’s resting spot between his teeth, he begins writing on your pubic bone. you prop yourself up a bit on your elbows, watching as he drags the black marker across your skin. when he pulls his hand back, you finally get a glimpse of it, written sloppily in all caps: “MATT’S”. you let out a gasp, causing his gaze to shift from the writing to your eyes before he wraps his free hand around your throat and pins you back to the bed. with his free hand, he brings the marker up to your chest, repeating the same letters before capping the marker and tossing it across the room. he slams his dick back into you, resuming his relentless pace. the roughness of his thrusts is overwhelming and cries leave your throat as you try to not to think about it. a hard slap lands on your face, pulling you back to reality.

“do you understand now?” he snaps.

you quickly nod your head in response. he lifts his hand and you feel another slap hit your cheek, the familiar sting flooding your face once more, “no, speak. tell me you understand that you belong to me.”

“yes matty i understand— i’m yours, only yours.” you cry, still struggling to endure the bruising pace of his thrusts.

he pulls out unexpectedly, flipping you over on all fours before entering you again. he grips you by your hair again, pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest.

“mine. all mine. no one else’s.” he speaks into your ear, “i fucking own you, not chris. you understand that or you need me to write it on your fucking forehead too?”

“i understand matty, im so sorry.” tears spill from your eyes again as the pain of his actions and words become too much.

“oh are you? you’re sorry for fucking him or sorry that you got caught?” he patronizes.

“sorry for fucking him matty, so sorry.” your croak.

“stop fucking calling me that.” he growls, reaching his other hand around to grab your throat.

your heart breaks at his response. you’ve always called him matty, and he absolutely adores the nickname. your face twists in pain, a yelp leaving you as he squeezes the hand around your throat tightly, continuing his rough pace.

“so fucking stupid, so fucking ungrateful, so fucking impatient. i already told you i’d let you fuck him again, you couldn’t just fucking wait? you had to go do it behind my back? you’re that much of a desperate whore? couldn’t go ten fucking days without my brother’s dick in you?” his words are filled with anger, grip on your throat even tighter as you wince at his words.

“c’mon matt chill, you’re hurting her.” chris’s voice is low as he speaks for the first time since his confession to matt.

“shut the fuck up chris. wasn’t talking to you.” matt scoffs, “besides, she likes it. likes being roughed up and treated like shit. didn’t she tell you that when you were balls deep in her?”

chris rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw at his brother’s comments. while matt was right that you enjoyed a bit of roughness during sex, this was nearing your limits. cries continue to escape you as tears stream down your face. but you don’t want to disappoint matt, you just want to fix things, you know you can take it. chris looks at you once more, his expression filled with concern before he speaks again.

“matt.” he warns.

“oh for fuck’s sake, she’s fine! she has a safeword and she can use it. but you’re not gonna, huh? because you’re a sick bitch.” matt seethes.

his words make you sob. it’s not his usual sex talk, he’s serious now, he means every word.

“a sick bitch who fucked my brother behind my back. bet you’d let him fuck you again too, just like this with my name written all over you. dirty fucking slut.” matt growls as his thrusts falter.

“matt no!” you cry shaking your head, desperately trying to convince him.

“shut up, don’t wanna hear your stupid fucking voice when i cum.” he orders.

your mouth falls open in a sob, head dropping at his words as your tears fall onto the mattress. he’s never spoken to you like this before, never treated you like this before— like he hates you. a feeling of nausea washes over your body. your heart feels shattered.

matt’s hips stutter as he finally releases inside you. he stills for only a moment before pulling out of you and backing up from the bed without a word. he locates his discarded clothes on the floor and begins dressing himself, back turned to his brother and yourself. you’re snifling quitely, eyes briefly meeting chris’s as matt finishes dressing himself and immediately heads for the door.

“clean her up chris.” matt mumbles, walking out of the room without so much as a glance at either of you.

chris jumps up from the seat, rushing over to you. he kneels in front of you and you see his mouth move but you don’t register anything he says. your brows furrow in disbelief as you hear matt’s footsteps move through the hallway. the sound of the front door closing and matt’s car starting are enough to your stomach drop, eyes widening at the reality of your situation. your body curls into a ball as you sob. he just left you, like you’re nothing. you know it’s over.

“hey, hey, you’re okay, it’s okay.” chris whispers finally register as he rubs your back through your sobs. “i’m gonna go run you a bath, okay? i’ll be right back, i promise.”

you don’t respond, simply continuing to cry in a fetal position as you think about how you just ruined the best thing that has ever happened to you. chris returns moments later and carefully picks you up before leading you to the bathroom. he places you in the warm bath that smells of your lavender soap— a scent that usually calms you, but nothing can calm you right now. your red teary eyes meet chris’s, who looks to be on the verge of tears himself as he lets out a shaky sigh. you know he feels guilty for all of this. he glances down at your chest before wetting a rag with soap and water, gently scrubbing the writing off.

“it’s okay,” he soothes, running his unoccupied hand through your hair softly, “it’s all gonna be okay.”

your sobs only worsen at his words as you shake your head. you don’t believe him.

“no—he’s gonna—leave me. he—he hates me.” you choke out through shaky breaths and tears.

chris stops washing you and reaches to cup your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs only for more to fall.

“hey, relax. he’s not gonna leave you sweetheart. take a deep breath for me.” he demonstrates an exaggerated deep breath for you to follow.

you copy his actions, letting out a shaky breath before speaking again, “you don’t know that.”

“yes i do.” he responds softly.

“how?” you ask through sniffles as you try to quiet your sobs.

chris sighs before he continues scrubbing the writing off your chest, “because i know my brother,” he begins, “and i know you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. you’re the most important person in the world to him, probably even more than me and nick.”

chris pauses before speaking again.

“i know he would do anything to keep you.” his voice is lower this time, more strained, “he’s never gonna leave you.”

his tone is laced with something you can’t quite pinpoint— hurt? jealousy? anger? you watch a tear roll down his cheek before he quickly wipes it. he switches his gaze from the bath to your eyes, offering you a small smile.

“could you stand up for me sweetheart?” his normal soft voice returning.

you slowly stand up in the bathtub as chris begins to scrub the writing off your pubic bone, soon turning you around gently so he can wash the writing off your ass. the writing doesn’t come off easily, causing chris to scrub your skin until it’s nearly raw. every wipe of the washcloth is a painful reminder of matt’s hatred toward you. you find yourself crying again, quietly this time. chris sits you back down and finishes cleaning the rest of your body. he notices your tears but opts to not say anything this time, letting you cry it out while he rubs your hair with his free hand.

“all done sweetheart.” chris whispers after a few minutes before getting up to grab you a towel.

you step out of the tub onto the bath mat, allowing chris dry you off. his touch is soft as he gently pats you dry before wrapping the towel around you. he begins to walk you out of the bathroom before he abruptly stops as if forgetting something. he turns his head to meet your eyes.

“where do you wanna lay down?” his voice is soft.

“matt’s room.” you whisper, wanting to be there as soon as matt returns.

chris nods leading you to matt’s room. he digs through matt’s dresser to find you a t-shirt and boxers before walking back over to you. he dresses you carefully and pulls back the covers for you to lay down. he tucks you in gently and his hand reaches to push a stray hair behind your ear. he gives you a soft smile before turning to walk out of the room. you grab his wrist before he can fully turn.

“please don’t leave too.” you plead softly.

chris’s eyes linger on yours, contemplating your plea. he doesn’t want to make things worse between you and matt, but he can’t leave you like this. he nods, crawling into bed next to you. you curl into his chest, wrapping your arms around his body before breaking down in tears again. he rests his chin on your head and rubs your back softly.

“shh please don’t cry sweetheart. i promise you everything’s gonna be okay. just close your eyes and get some rest.” chris whispers.

“please dont leave.” you beg.

“i’m not going anywhere.” his soft fingertips move in circles along your back.

“promise you’ll stay here while i sleep?” you ask, terrified at the thought of losing them both.

“i promise. close your eyes y/n.” he plants a small kiss on your forehead before you shut your eyes and focus on the comfort of his fingers rubbing your back.

“i’m so sorry sweetheart.” he whispers as you fall asleep.

the sound of hushed voices in the hallway pulls you from your sleep. you turn to find the bed empty beside you, heart dropping at the realization that chris left. still groggy, you struggle to make out what the voices are saying, so you sit yourself up in an attempt to get a better listen. the door to matt’s bedroom is slightly ajar, but you don’t see anyone in the hall.

“all i’m saying is you need to talk to her, she thinks you’re gonna leave her.” you recognize chris’s voice.

“i’m not gonna leave her.” matt’s voice echoes.

it’s the first time you’ve heard him speak since earlier— it’s the first time he sounds like himself. your heart races when you process his words. i’m not going to leave her. chris was right. you angle your head in an attempt to see them through the cracked door, but you only find chris. he’s in the same black t-shirt and grey sweatpants he wore earlier, and his hair is slightly disheveled, presumably from running his hands through it like he always does when he’s stressed out. his eyes are heavy and his cheeks are flushed with a look of exasperation.

“i know and i told her that, but she’s a wreck dude.” chris tries to keep a whisper but his volume only increases, “it’s not her fault okay? she wouldn’t intentionally hurt you and you know that. if you want to be mad at me, that’s completely fine, i deserve it and i can take it. but she didn’t know matt, boundaries were never established and that’s on all of us, it’s a— unique situation. don’t torture her please. it’ll never happen again.”

you start to worry when you don’t hear matt respond. you move your head again, trying to get a glimpse of him through the door to no avail. suddenly the door creaks open. you look up to see matt entering his room and chris looking in from hallway. chris sends you a brief but reassuring smile before matt closes the door behind him. his eyes land on yours—his expression is so much softer than earlier. you let out an exhale you didn’t even know you were holding.

“hi” he speaks softly, his voice hoarse, as he walks over to where you lay.

“hi” you respond at a volume barely audible.

the bed dips as he sits down in front of you, one hand landing on your leg as the other reaches to touch your cheek.

“we need to talk.” he sighs.

“i’m sorry matty i— i shouldn’t have— i’ll never—” tears immediately begin to stream down your face as you struggle to complete a sentence.

“shh, let me talk.” matt speaks over you, his voice still soft and quiet as his thumb rubs your cheek.

he takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“i’m sorry for earlier. i was a dick to you, i was too rough, and it’s not okay. you didn’t deserve that, no matter what happened.” he begins before you shake your head.

“no matty i deserved it. i— i cheated on you and i’m so sorry.” voice squeaking as you bawl, closing your eyes.

“shh, you didn’t cheat on me. i never set boundaries, i never said i had to be present for you to fuck chris. it was a grey area and it’s my fault.” matt coos, wiping your tears, as you shake your head.

“no it’s all my fault. it won’t ever happen again matty, im so fucking sorry.” you cry.

“baby i don’t mind if you fuck him.” matt speaks.

you shoot him a puzzled look, confused by his words, “you don’t?”

he shakes his head, “no, i— i just want you to be happy. if chris also makes you happy, then that’s alright with me. it doesn’t really bother me, i think i just reacted that way earlier because—” he stops himself, dropping his hand from your face and his eyes from yours.

“what?” you sniffle.

“i guess i was— i am, just worried you’ll like him better. worried i won’t be good enough for you anymore and you’ll leave me for him. i don’t wanna lose you. i don’t care if you’re with us both, we have a lot of love to give you, i just can’t lose you. ” he confesses, eyes trained on his hand in his lap.

“matty i’d never leave you, i’m never going anywhere. i love you more than anything or anyone.” you reassure him, placing your hand over his.

“but you have feelings for chris too right?” he lifts his eyes to meet yours again, “it’s okay if you do, i’m not angry with you, i just need to know.”

you nod, heat rising to your cheeks at your admission, dropping your head to avoid matt’s eyes. he chuckles softly, hand lifting your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“hey, it’s okay, i promise you i’m not angry. we’ll talk to chris later okay?” matt asks.

you nod in response, earning a smile from him. he climbs over you and leans back against the headboard, extending his arms out for you.

“c’mere, just wanna hold you and take care of you right now.” matt pleads.

you smile, climbing into his lap and resting your head in the crook of his neck. he places soft kisses along your cheek as he rubs your lower back. his other hand moves to your hair, gently rubbing the sore skin from his tight pulling earlier.

“i’m so sorry that i hurt you baby.” he whispers, “i didn’t mean anything that i said, i was just upset and scared at the thought of losing you, but that’s not an excuse.”

“it’s okay matty.” you respond, placing a kiss on his neck.

“it’s not, i was so awful to you. i’m so sorry, that will never happen again.” matt’s voice strains as you feel a tear hit your skin— he’s crying.

“i’m okay baby, really.” you pull your face back from his neck to wipe his few tears.

he glances down at you with a look of adoration, offering you a soft smile.

“i love you baby.” he pulls you back against his chest.

“i love you too matty.” you whisper before fading into sleep.

a/n: okay so i originally planned on ending this series here but lmk what you guys think 👀

✧ tags✧ @m1zzi3 @pepsiisgoatedasf @courta13

[zebuie]

.𓂋 𝄞 Close To You 𖧷

❁PAIRINGS❁; girlfriend!ellie x reader.

❁ཻུ۪۪ ⋅ READ THIS. # DAILY CLICK ➹

⊹𓂋 SYNOPSIS; sitting on Ellie's lap while playing videogames turns into soft lovemaking <3

✸ 𓂃WARNINGS; wc: 2k, swearing, fingering (e & r receiving) , eating out (e & r receiving) , boob sucking (r receiving) , pet names ( baby , princess , good girl / i think that's all)

You were bored in your room so you started playing video games on your Playstation. Ellie, your girlfriend, came into the room and saw you playing, she asked you: "Don't you prefer to play on my lap? It's more comfortable, I promise." 

She gave you a smile and you agreed.

You turn off the PlayStation, setting the controller aside. Then you sit back down on Ellie's lap, relaxing into her embrace. 

You can feel the heat of her body through her clothes, the softness of her blouse against your skin. She smells good, like lavender and vanilla. 

You breathe in deeply, feeling yourself start to relax, to unwind. Ellie's hands roam over your back, tracing the lines of your spine. 

You let out a soft sigh, a pleasure-filled moan— barely audible. 

Ellie leans down, planting a trail of kisses along your neck. "feels good?" she whispers. you reply with a eager nod. Her hands continue their exploration, drifting lower, to the small of your back. You arch, pushing your back into her touch. 

Ellie chuckles softly. "Sensitive?" she asks, her lips brushing against your ear. 

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Her fingers linger, tracing patterns, making you shiver. 

You sit there for what feels like hours, just enjoying the moment, letting Ellie's touch work its magic. And as you sit there, you start to feel that familiar pressure building once again.

You continue to sit on Ellie's lap, enjoying her touch, the way she makes you feel. 

Her hands wander, sliding under your shirt, her fingers tracing your ribcage, dipping into your waistband. 

You arch into her touch, encouraging her to continue. Ellie leans down, her lips finding yours in a soft, sweet kiss. 

As she kisses you, her hands slide up, pulling your shirt off over your head. You feel a rush of cool air, followed by the heat of her hands on your skin. She discards your shirt carelessly, her attention focused on you. 

Her lips trail down your neck, your chest, her hands roaming freely now. You feel yourself getting wetter, your panties clinging to your flesh. "Ellieee," you breathe, your voice hitching with need. 

She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. "yeah?"

"I need you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. Ellie smiles softly, her eyes glinting with triumph. 

"Always," she responds, her voice low and husky. She stands, lifting you up effortlessly, and carries you off to her bedroom. 

Once there, she lays you down on the bed, kneeling over you. She looks down at you, her eyes burning with desire, her lips curled into a wicked grin. she reaches down and slides your panties down your legs, tossing them aside. 

You're left lying there, exposed and vulnerable, but also excited, anticipating what's to come. Ellie looks at your bared sex, licking her lips. "So pretty," she says, her voice full of awe. Then her tongue dips out, sliding through your folds, seeking out your clit. 

You let out a soft cry of pleasure, your hips arching off the bed. And then her fingers start to move, sliding inside you, scissoring, stretching you.

she then dives head first in between your thighs. she continues to tantalize your senses, her tongue lapping at your most intimate places. 

You can feel your body responding, getting wetter by the second. Her fingers slide inside you, scissoring, stretching you in the most delicious ways. 

She curls her fingers, rubbing that sensitive spot deep inside. You cry out, your hips bucking involuntarily. "Sensitive," Ellie observes, her eyes glinting with wicked amusement. 

Then her tongue darts out again, flicking at your clit. You try to keep still, but it's impossible. Your body is writhing, seeking out more of Ellie's expert touch. 

She obliges, rubbing her tongue against you in firm, consistent strokes. Her fingers never stop moving either, pumping in and out of you, keeping the pressure building, building, building...

Ellie continues her relentless assault on your senses, her tongue lapping at your clit, her fingers pumping in and out of you. 

You're so close, the edge of orgasm hovering just out of reach. "Don't come," Ellie orders, her voice firm but husky. "Not yet baby." She continues her ministrations, her tongue darting out in quick, hard strokes. 

Her fingers curl, rub, press. You try to obey, you try to hold back, but it's getting harder and harder. Your body is tense, coiled, ready to spring. "Ellie" you protest, your voice high and desperate. "Please -oh my god"

Ellie ignores your pleas, her focus solely on driving you mad with lust. 

Her tongue swirls around your clit, her fingers pumping faster, harder, deeper. You're so close, you can feel it, the rush of endorphins, the tingle of impending orgasm. 

But Ellie won't let you cum. "Not yet," she commands, her voice a low, husky growl.  "just getting started princess." She continues her relentless attack, her tongue lapping, her fingers curling, stroking that perfect spot inside you. 

You're trapped in a prison of pleasure, unable to escape, unable to reach your peak. It's torture, sweet agony. Your body is tense, writhing, seeking release. "Elliee" you cry out, your voice raw and desperate. "Please, I need..." But you can't finish the sentence. Words fail you, overwhelmed by sensation.

Ellie continues her relentless assault on your senses, her tongue lapping at your clit, her fingers pumping in and out of you. 

She's pushed you to the edge, kept you there, teetering on the precipice. Now, finally, she allows it. "cum for me baby," she commands, her voice a low, husky purr. 

Her tongue flicks quickly, lightly over your clit. Her fingers press, stroke, curl. And then you're falling, tumbling over the edge, into the sweet release of orgasm. 

Your body shakes, trembles, writhes. A cry tears from your throat. Ellie is there, holding you, supporting you as the waves of pleasure wash over you. 

It seems to go on forever, the aftershocks, the slow, gentle fading. Finally, you collapse back onto the bed, spent and satisfied. Ellie lies down beside you, pulling you close. "Good girl," she whispers, planting a soft, sweet kiss on your forehead.

Ellie tends to you with gentle, loving care. She wipes your face, your neck, your chest with a soft cloth. 

Her touch is soothing, calming. She covers your body in soft, sweet kisses, dotting your skin like stars in the night sky. 

Her lips trail across your flesh, your collarbone, your shoulders. She pays special attention to your breasts, your hips, your inner thighs. Each kiss is a promise, a seal of love and affection. As she tends to you, she pulls you close, holding you, making you feel safe and sound. "I love you," she whispers, punctuating her words with more kisses. "So very much." 

Ellie continues to shower you with affectionate kisses, her lips tracing patterns across your skin. she gently lifts up your tank top as she lingers longer over your tender nipples, her tongue flicking out to tease. 

You let out a soft sigh, a pleasure-filled moan. She chuckles softly, looking up at you with adoring eyes. "Sore, princess?" She asks gently. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. 

Ellie nods sympathetically. "I'll be gentle then." She continues her ministrations, her lips soft and sweet against your flesh. 

Ellie's lips wrap around one of your nipples, her tongue swirling around it in a maddeningly slow circle. 

You arch, pushing your breast further into her mouth. She sucks, hard, the pull on your flesh sending sparks shooting straight to your core. You cry out, your fingers tangling in her hair. 

Ellie hums around your nipple, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. She switches to the other breast, giving it the same attentive care. 

You're left panting, your chest heaving, your sex throbbing with renewed need. "love you so much baby," Ellie says softly, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes. 

You gently climb on top of Ellie, settling between her legs. She looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. 

You lean down, your lips finding hers in a soft, sweet kiss. As you pull away, you slide down further, your tongue darting out to taste her sex. 

Ellie gasps, her back arching off the bed. You lap at her, slowly, thoroughly, getting to know her taste, her scent. 

You slide a finger inside her, curling it, stroking that perfect spot. Ellie moans, her hips rolling into your touch. You continue your ministrations, determined to drive her just as crazy as she drove you.

You continue to explore Ellie's sex with your tongue, your fingers. You learn what makes her gasp, what makes her moan. 

You vary your touches, surprising her, teasing her. Ellie writhes beneath you, her hands tangling in your hair. 

She tries to urge you on, to tell you exactly what she needs. But you already know. You slide a second finger inside, scissoring, stretching her. 

Ellie cries out, her body tense, coiled. "So good," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You continue your relentless assault on Ellie's senses, your tongue lapping, your fingers pumping in and out of her. 

She's a whimpering, writhing mess beneath you, her sex dripping with need. You dip your tongue inside, tasting her, marking her as yours. 

Your fingers never stop moving, pumping, curving, stroking that perfect spot. Ellie is trapped in a prison of pleasure, unable to escape, unable to reach her peak. It's torture, sweet agony. 

Her body is tense, coiled, ready to spring. she cries out, your name a plea on her lips. "Oh my fuck,"

You continue your ministrations, but your touch becomes gentle, soft. You lap at Ellie's sex with a delicate tongue, your fingers sliding inside with the lightest of touches. You stroke, you tease, you tempt. 

Ellie whimpers, her hips rolling into your touch. You curve your fingers, rubbing that perfect spot with the softest of caresses. Ellie gasps, her back arching off the bed. You pull away, leaving her wanting more. "Please don't stop." She whimpers softly.

You continue to explore Ellie's sex with the gentle, soft touch of a lover. Your tongue laps at her, your fingers stroke, curl, press. You vary your touches, surprising her, teasing her. 

But always, always with care, with gentleness. You're determined to drive her mad with lust, but without causing her pain. 

Ellie writhes beneath you, her hips rolling, her back arching. She tries to urge you on, to tell you exactly what she needs—But you already know. 

You slide a third finger inside, gently, carefully, stretching her in the softest way possible. Ellie gasps, her body tensing. "So full," she whispers, her voice breathy and desperate.

you dip your tongue inside, pressing hard, curling. Ellie cries out, her back arching off the bed, her hips rolling into your touch. She grips your hair, her fingers tangling, holding you in place. 

"Yeah—fuck.." she screams, her body trembling, shaking. And then, finally, she's falling, tumbling over the edge, into the sweet release of orgasm. 

Her sex clamps down on your fingers, milking, squeezing. You ride it out with her, until she's spent, until she collapses back onto the bed, panting, trembling. You collapse down beside her, wrapping your arms around her, holding her close.

You get up from the bed, leaving Ellie panting, trembling, spent from her orgasm. You go to the bathroom, wetting a cloth with warm water. 

You bring it back to Ellie, gently wiping her sex, her thighs. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open. She looks up at you, a soft, sweet smile on her lips. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice hoarse from screaming. You gently clean her up, tending to her, caring for her.

[sm-baby]

Wait... Since Mei-lyn was originally based off of you... Does that mean Weiss is the type of guy you would theoretically find attractive? (Unless I'm thinking too hard about this... you stated you're ace so, I'm probably WAY off the mark here!)

short answer: NAuR, Weiss was genetically modified to not be a lame boring love interest so I made him super awesome and cool and stuff like batman

He was also genetically modified to be my type of blorbo 😔

Long answer:Nah ... often times in media i realized that people panic when they say that they have to make a love interest. So, they end up making this conventionally attractive boring ass "boy next door" dude that has NO chemistry with the main character, and doesn't effect the character in anyway.

I said FUCK THAT and literally made it so

1. They have chemistry

Making him the prosecutor and Mei-lyn a defence attorney, yall IMMIDIATELY picked up on a rivals dynamic, which is a GOOD sign.

2. Serves his love interest(Mei-lyn)'s character

Him being a Lawyer, and living a life that Mei-lyn always wanted already gives a service to her character

The fact that he stands against oppression and authority which is s a large theme in her story

Not to mention him being an actual good guy contrasts Mei-lyn and we actually see how lowkey awful her actions have been.

3. He has a large significance to the "story"

Bro kick-started the REVOLUTION. I have made it my fucking duty to make it so the story would NOT be the same without him.

Love interests are best when they're not written to be a love interest, but their own separate character with flaws, history, and values.

Not to mention there is a topic of respect and what love IS... Weiss is willing to hold Mei-lyn accountable and will love when it is deserved. NEITHER of them grow feelings until Mei-lyn grows as a person.

I LOVE WRITING. I LOVE WRITING. I LOVE WR-

[infinitelibrary]

Comfort (a myg drabble)

PAIRING: Yoongi x f. Reader 

SUMMARY: You have had a terrible horrible no good very bad day. All you want is to forget about it. Your boyfriend is there to help you do just that.

WC: 1766 (she just a BABY)

AU: Established relationship, fluff, minor angst?

GENRE: Fluff 

RATING: No restrictions on this one.

WARNINGS: Nothing, really. Maybe one or two curse words, and some feelings of self-doubt / pity, but that's it. Reader's had an awful day.  

CROSSPOSTED: to wattpad, and ao3

A/N: Surprise! This is probably among one of the fastest things I've ever whipped out lol. Honestly I'm not sure how I feel about this. It hasn't been beta read, it hasn't been properly proofread, and I don't know if I like it like it, but I felt compelled to crank this out and so here we are. Please be kind - it's been AWHILE since I last wrote anything to completion lol

************************************************

The chirpy electronic beeping of the keypad echoes down the hallway in stark contrast to your mood as the locking mechanism of the door released, granting you access to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend.  You let the door swing shut behind you as you shuffled in, dropping your purse on the table by the entrance, and leaning against the wall.  Huffing away the few wayward strands of hair that had fallen in front of your face, you bent down to tug off your ankle boots, sighing for what could quite possibly have been the millionth time before sliding your feet into the cushiony comfort of your fuzzy sky blue house slippers. 

The apartment is dark save for the filtered light coming in through the sheerly curtained windows, but you can't be bothered to even turn on the standing lamp in the entryway.  Instead, you make your way almost on autopilot through the foyer and head straight down the hall past the kitchen and the living room, towards the door with a glowing blue stripe at the base.  Normally you would stop by your bedroom to strip out of your work clothes and into some sweatpants and a hoodie stolen / borrowed from your boyfriend but after everything you’ve been through today you simply cannot be bothered.  Carefully turning the knob, you inch the door open slowly, cautiously peeking inside to ensure you haven’t disrupted anything.  Just opposite the doorway you see him:  Yoongi is seated at his office chair with his back to you - true to form, his attention is solely focused on the myriad of rows and musical layers displayed on the computer screen in front of him, his ginger hair floofy and untamed - head bopping slowly in time with a barely discernible beat emanating from his over-ear Sony headphones.

You run your fingers through your hair, gnawing on your lower lip.  As much as you want to go to him, you know better than to disturb him when he’s in the zone - you’ve seen him snap at colleagues and friends when they’ve attempted to interrupt him while he’s focused and in the zone like this.  Instead you turn dejectedly and ease yourself onto the black sectional near the doorway, curling up with your head on the armrest, facing the back of the couch.  You feel the heat of all your pent up emotions and frustrations returning to your face, hot tears welling in your eyes.  Just one more thing that the universe had against you today.  Of course he’d be busy.  He was always busy; ever the workaholic.  Why would he have time for you?  What made you think he’d notice insignificant little you entering his sacred domain? You know this pity party you’re throwing for yourself is unreasonable but after the day you’ve had, you feel absolutely defeated and just want to wallow in your misery, your poisonous mindset grasping at any additional reasons it can to pile on top of the hurt you already feel.  You draw in a shaky breath, trying desperately not to create a disturbance, praying that perhaps just being in his presence will help you feel better.  As the first of the tears escape, and a muffled sob wrenches forth from your throat, you realize your efforts are in vain. 

You hear movement behind you but don’t dare turn around. “Jagi?”His voice registers confusion.  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

You hesitate for a moment, struggling to compose yourself. Clearing your throat, you attempt to steady your voice. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Jagiya, you’re never a bother for me.” The squeak of his chair tells you your attempts at masking your discomfort were pointless; you hear footsteps shuffling, his voice much closer as his hand touches your shoulder to gently turn you towards him. “Hey, are you -” 

You try to hurriedly wipe your eyes but you know it’s futile - he knows. He always knows. You sniffle: “It’s fine.”

“Jagi, no,” he immediately sits next to you and drapes himself over you in an embrace, enveloping you in comfort and warmth.  “It’s okay if it’s not fine.  I’m here now.”  

You turn slightly so you can properly wrap your arms around him, accepting his hug, savoring the warmth of his body through his soft white sweater.  He nuzzles your neck and plants a tender kiss just under your ear.  It may not fix everything, but his presence and warmth and the subtle weight of his body on top of you already seems to do wonders to help ease some of your tension.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he whispers.

“Maybe in a bit,” you whisper back.  “Can you just hold me for a while longer?  Please?”

“Of course. I’ll hold you forever if you ask me to, jagi.” He chuckles softly and you can feel his lips curl into a soft smile against your skin. His hands stroke up and down your arms over the smooth satin material of your blouse. He lays like that for a few minutes, the room silent except for the occasional sniffle from you. Giving you space and time to just be. His warm breath tickles your neck when, after a few minutes, he whispers, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You take in a deep breath and sigh, this time much steadier than before. Shifting slightly so that you can both sit up, you allow him to take a look at your face, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently, his thumb gently swiping under your eyes to dry your tears. 

“Hey,” he chides you, pulling you closer. One arm wraps around your waist, the other curls around to stroke your hair. You drape your legs across his lap and cling to his torso, tucking your head under his chin as he continues, “It’s okay if you don’t. I’m okay to just sit here with you as long as you want me to.”

“I just…everything went wrong today.” You begin, and proceed to word vomit all of the events that had transpired today to bring you to where you are now. Starting from the fact that you arrived late to work because of traffic, having to park in the overflow lot and getting caught in a flash downpour without an umbrella as you made your way through the parking lot, the coffeemaker on your floor being broken to where you had to get the tepid burnt carafe coffee from the office cafeteria, the printer jamming and when you tried to clear the paper jam it spewed ink across your already damp blouse, receiving the completely wrong order from the cafetoria but not having the time nor energy to get it corrected, and finally finishing with your manager berating you at the end of the day for technical issues that were in no way your fault during a key presentation to stakeholders. Through it all, Yoongi remains silent, just listening, saying nothing.  Simply stroking your back slowly, comfortingly, listening and taking it all in, letting you vent.  “I just wish I could erase today completely or slam a reset button somewhere.” you finish wearily.

“I’m sorry, sarang.”  He murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head tenderly.  “That sounds so incredibly frustrating. I’m sorry it was such an awful day.”

Yoongi pulls away gently, tilting your chin up so you could meet his gaze.  “Why don’t you go change. I’ll fix you a cup of tea and we can curl up on the sofa with that one show you like?”  

Your gaze shifts downwards, unsure, and you hear him click his tongue. “Or, we can just sit there for a while, we don’t have to watch anything.  Just change out of your workclothes, come to the sofa.  I’ll take care of the rest.”  Slowly you nod.  As unmotivated as you are, you know you have to do something. And as difficult as it is for you to admit you need to be taken care of right now, you know it’s for the best - and you also know Yoongi is stubborn as fuck and won’t take no for an answer.  

He helps you to your feet and instead of leaving you to your own devices to figure out what to wear, he walks you to your shared bedroom and ushers you onto the bed.  Gives you a kiss on your forehead and tells you to wait there for a moment as he enters the closet and rummages around for a few moments before emerging with a pair of sweatpants and, true to form, one of his hoodies that he knows you love.  “Go ahead and get changed and then meet me in the living room, okay?”

You do as he asks, and when you enter the living room you see that he’s already set out a bowl of your favorite snacks - honey butter chips, injeomi turtle snacks, and some of those little red bean paste filled mochi balls that you love.  Your favorite blanket is folded and neatly draped across the armrest, and the TV has been switched on, your guilty pleasure Netflix show cued up to your favorite episode.  

In the modest kitchen just past the living room you see Yoongi pouring the contents of a teapot into two small teacups.  He arranges them on saucers on a tray, which he then carefully brings into the living room, placing them next to the snacks.  Surveying his handiwork, he nods to himself, satisfied that everything looks the way it should.  He turns and sees that you are still standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching him.  “Hey.” his voice softly pulls you out of your thoughts. “Come. I got you.”

You barely register yourself moving closer to him, stepping into his embrace.  He rubs your back gently for a few minutes, kissing your temple softly just before he pulls back, easing you to sit on the couch in your usual corner.  Draping the fleece throw carefully over you, he then takes one of the cups, handing it to you before taking one for himself and curling up carefully next to you under the blanket.  You lean in next to him, slowly sipping your tea and feeling the warmth of the soothing herbal concoction course through your body.  He starts the program on the television, and as you tuck yourself up against him, you feel the stress and tension of the day ebb away, silently grateful to have such a caring and thoughtful partner to help you decompress after such an awful day.  

[drabblesandimagines]

Mistletoe

A secret Santa gift for @porcelainseashore and @leonsecretsanta

Prompt: Mistletoe. Trope: Childhood friends. Wildcard: Cowboy AU.

I'm so sorry I misread the deadline!

--

“No, no, no…” You plead in vain as the engine splutters, the car kangarooing forward at the loss of power as you manage to steer off to the side of the road. Well, if you could technically call it that – it was definitely more of a dirt track than anything else. There’s an awful sound as the carefully wrapped presents are thrown around and you’re hoping the vase you’d bought for your grandma has survived in the layers of bubble-wrap.

Damn it all. You’re so close too – just over three miles from town – but the whisps of smoke now emitting from the engine doesn’t seem promising.

Wait.

Smoke?!

You fumble with the handle, yanking it hard and flinging the door open in an attempt to throw yourself out of the car, nearly forgetting to unbuckle your seat belt as you do so. It’s not a graceful exit, a panicked tumble, scraping your palms on the dirt as you scramble up to your feet and try to create some distance between you and the machine you’re so is about to burst into flames.

Only to hear a dry chuckle.

You spin around in fright, barely keeping your balance – you swore there hadn’t been anyone in sight when you’d pulled over, the track had been dead as a doornail since you’d turned off the highway – but there, leaning against the beaten-up fence that lined the path is who you think is a man, the dipping winter sun silhouetting his figure, a stetson hat shading his face from view.

“Howdy, little lady”, a deep, oddly familiar voice greets. “Car trouble?”

“I…” You turn back to look at the vehicle, the smoke that had been emitting from under the hood is now just a non-threatening whisp. “I thought it was gonna explode. Complete hunk of junk.”

“Junk? Nah, she’s just a classic  - like all the machinery on my ranch. Probably just needs a gentler touch. Mind if I take a look?”

Before you can answer, he’s hopping over the fence with the assistance of what you can now see is a particular toned forearm, clad in a grey – but what was once white t-shirt –sturdy denim jeans and striding over to you in a pair of black leather boots, finally lifting his head to reveal his face.

This is screaming stranger danger – out in the middle of nowhere, the setting sun, there’s never been any cell service on the outskirts in the town that you’d grown up in and you’ll be lucky to get a smidge of a bar when you even get there, and now you’re gonna be a headline on the town gazette about the abandoned truck on the side of the room, full of Christmas presents and-

Wait.

“Leon?”

His eyebrows furrow beneath the rim of his hat, blue eyes widening in realisation and suddenly you’re pulled into his chest by those muscular arms, an exclamation of your name into your crown in greeting.

He smells ridiculously good – a combination of musk, hay, a hint of oil from the machines at the aforementioned ranch… It’s only then that you realise your arms are still hanging limply by your sides that you return his embrace.

“I near about didn’t recognise you in the city get-up!”

You pull back, an accusatory look on your face that immediately falters when your heart skips a beat.

Of course he would only become even more attractive in your time away.

Leon S Kennedy had always been blessed in the looks department, that and his boyish charm had meant he’d always had a line of interested girls in high school and, with the way he seems to have aged like a fine wine, you don’t doubt that he must’ve made one his wife…

You shake off the thought, lying to yourself about why it had made your stomach sink in the first place.

“Uh-huh. My ‘city get-up’ compared to your look right now.” You can’t help but lift your hand and nudge the rim of the hat up with your forefinger. “When did you start wearing this?”

“Somewhere in the last, what, five years since you visited, right?” Leon tries to tease with a smile, arms still wrapped loosely around your waist, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah. Well…” You shrug, the uneasy feeling in your stomach now replaced with a knot of guilt. “There was classes and work, hard to get back down here. And Grandma liked to come visit.” It wasn’t a lie – she did. “But with her health not being so great this year…” You trail off, not really wanting to think about it.

You step back out of his embrace at last then, immediately feeling a little colder for doing so. You lift an arm to scratch the back of your neck and Leon immediately recalls it as an anxious tell from your youth.

“Yeah… I’m mighty sorry to hear about that. She seems fit as a fiddle to me, you know? I still see her every Sunday at the market. Hell, if I’m particularly lucky, she’ll let me carry the bags to her car.”

You force a smile. “That’s sweet of you.”

“Nah, it’s the least I can do.” He shrugs, looking like he wants to say more.

Instead, he claps his hands together and jerks his chin towards your car. “Let’s see if we can get you on your way, huh?”

“Sure. I’ll… I’ll pop the hood.”

--

As Grandma would say, gosh darn it all to heck and back.

You thought you were over him.

Leon had been your best friend since practically birth, right up until the end of high school when you’d headed off to the city for college and he’d stayed to take over his father’s ranch. It was the summer before college that something had changed, how butterflies had started to blossom in your stomach every time he smiled at you, despite doing it hundreds of thousands of times before and had made the goodbye as you’d packed up to head off to the city bittersweet.

You’d promised each other you’d stay in touch – every Thursday night you had a scheduled phone call where you’d tell him all about your classes, what annoying thing your room-mates had been up to, how your manager had changed round all your shifts at the coffee shop again… He’d regale you with tales of home, what he was planning on changing around the ranch, what the latest uproar was in the town meeting.

Thursday evenings had quickly become your favourite night of the week, sacrificing sleep as you and Leon would talk into the early hours of the morning, sometimes finding yourself even drifting out to the comforting sound of his voice, and looking forward to every night when you could cross another day off the calendar until winter break began…

The butterflies are swirling around your stomach now, sure, but you also remember how much it had hurt when you’d raced up to the ranch as soon as you’d got home, only to find him kissing Lorelie Becker the front of the stables, a solitary sprig of mistletoe hanging from the arched doorway.

You’d turned heel and sprinted off as quick as you’d ran there. Grandma had commented on how quick a visit it had been and you’d dug your nails into your palm, shrugging it off that, oh, he hadn’t been around and you’d catch him tomorrow, fibbing that you were tired and going to have an early night, sobbing into your pillow for being so stupid in the first place to think that he’d thought of you as anything more than a friend.

That winter break had been awkward. Interactions with Leon felt too forced and you’d fed him excuses about having to help your grandma out at home instead of any of the plans you’d made over the phone the weeks prior. You’d even headed back up to college early, managing to snag some extra shifts to fill the weeks – all just to get away from the heartbreak. Slowly, those scheduled Thursday calls turned into messages left on answering machine, the occasional game of phone tag in an polite attempt to reschedule and then, eventually, stopped altogether.

You’d shrugged off the feeling of loss whenever you thought of him, or been reminded of something that would’ve made him laugh, something he’d like, or when Grandma had mentioned seeing him in town.  

The days had turned into weeks, months, and years…

And now, as you find yourself stood by the fence he’d hopped over, his hat resting besides you on one of the posts, staring at how dang good his rear looks in the well-worn, yet still stupidly fitted jeans, as he leans over, elbow deep in the components of your engine muttering under his breath, you realise how completely and utterly wrong you’ve been.

“Let’s see now...” Leon’s words break you out of your fixation as he stands up straight. He takes a moment to wipe off the oil from his hands on his jeans, drops down the hood with a satisfying thunk and turns to you, pushing the bangs out of his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Keys, darlin’?”

Your scalp tingles at the term of endearment and you could swear his cheeks are tinged red, but he clears his throat with a forced smile before clarifying.

“Your keys. Wanna make sure she turns over.”

“Oh.” You nod, stepping away from the fence. “Yeah, they’re still in the ignition.”

You walk over as he heads to the driver’s door, still open from your hasty exit, and watch as he leans in and turns the keys. The engine appears to start as normal - not a sputter to be heard nor a whiff of smoke to be seen.

Leon’s face erupts into a triumphant grin, but you can’t mirror it.

“It’s… It’s definitely safe to drive, right?”

The smile drops as he nods. “It’ll get you back to your grandma’s right enough. Mack took over the autoshop – I suggest you visit him before you head back down the highway…” He steps out your way and you hop into the driver’s seat, hoping to make a hasty exit.

“Thanks – saved me having to walk into town.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs. “Glad I was around.”

“I should…” You nod towards the open door. “Sorry, Grandma will start getting worried.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

--

“I always thought he was a nice boy.”

“Hm?” You mumble in reply, too focused on rolling out the dough on the wooden table in the middle of the kitchen. Grandma liked to make gift baskets for the neighbours as presents – packed full of home-made preserves and baked goods – and you’d been trusted with making the sugar cookies, acutely aware of how strict she was about achieving the perfect thickness before she’d even entertain the idea of getting the cookie cutters out.

“Do you need these fangled hearing aid things, sugar?” Grandma teases, tapping the device on her ear. “I said – I always thought that Leon was such a nice boy.”

“He’s not a boy anymore, Grandma.”

“Nice man, then. You know, I always thought you two would end up together…”

“We were just friends, Grandma.” You reply on default – it’s not the first time she’s brought up the conversation after all. You’d dated, of course, over the last couple of years, but every time they’d fizzled out Leon’s name would eventually be mentioned.

“No, not just friends. I saw the way he looked at you! Besides, it’s not like he’s dating or anything. All the ladies at church are constantly pushing their granddaughters on him and he’s nothin’ but polite. Why, Maureen Becker has been going on and on about her Lorelie-“

“Grandma!” You snap – emotions still high, nerves frazzled after seeing Leon yesterday. You knew it had been a possibility but, heck, you wanted to be more prepared, more put together your first time seeing him face to face again. “Leon didn’t like me like that, okay? I don’t know what happened between him and Lorelie, but they looked pretty cosy that night I saw them under the mistletoe at the ranch, so just stop, okay?”

“What’s all this now?”

“Nothing. Forget I said anything,” you try and backtrack, leaning down onto the rolling pin a little too hard and with the next roll the dough is almost translucent.

“Well, all right, then.” Grandma purses her lips. “Say, I think we’re almost out of butter. You re-roll that dough and get the next batch on whilst I go fetch some.”

“That’s okay – I can go grab it and you just rest.”

“Hush”, she chides, already heading towards the door. “Doctor said it was good for me to do a little bit of a walk each day. I won’t be a tick.”

--

“Well, howdy, ma’am,” Leon dips his head in respect as he spots Grandma approaching, a determined look on her face as she stalks up the path to where he’d been mending a broken panel. “What can I do for…? Hey!”

She swats the hat off his head with a firm hand.

“Don’t you hey me – I’d love to take that hat and stomp it under my foot. Why, it would be mighty appropriate, don’t you think, the way you broke that poor girl’s heart? I would never-“

“Whoa, now.” Leon raises his hands in a practiced gesture – too often having had to use it on spooked horses – and takes a step back. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me, ma’am.”

Grandma takes a breath and scowls. "Lorelei Becker."

"Lorelei..." Leon trails off as he scratches his chin, trying to catch up. “From high school?”

"Yes.” She punctuates her response with a firm poke to his chest.

“Well, what about her?”

“The last winter break my sugar came home - she came straight here, only to find YOU smoochin' Lorelei under the gosh darn mistletoe!"

"What? No - that..." Leon backs up as Grandma pokes at him again, the jabs feeling like they’re already going to bruise. "That's not what happened."

"Here I was, thinkin' you were a fine, upstandin' fella and all this time-"

"No - I'd set that up for her! I...” He steps to the side, finally managing to dodge an assault. “I put up that mistletoe. Heck, I know it was corny, but I thought she'd like it… Then Lorelei showed up and just grabbed me – I didn’t even see her that night-"

Grandma stops and stares at Leon – it took him right back to his youth, stood in the kitchen at your house where the two of you had been scolded for taking the tractor out on a joyride in the dark – and he shrinks back in himself.

“You promise that’s the truth?”

“I swear, ma’am.”

“Well,” her face relaxes, “seems this dilly-dallying has all been a big misunderstanding all these years.”

“Er, dilly-dallying?”

“Dilly-dallying.” Grandma bends down before Leon can stop her, picking up his abandoned hat and dusting it off before offering it back to him. “You swing by ours in about an hour and we’ll sort out this mess once and for all.”

--

You’re about to take the next batch of cookies out of the oven when there’s a loud knock on the front door and Grandma is quick to whip the oven mitts out of your hands. “Get that, will you, sugar? I’ll get these.”

“But surely it’ll be for you-“

“Go on now,” she swots you with the gloves on the back of your legs, urging you towards the door. She’d been in a weird mood since she’d returned with the butter, not letting you leave the kitchen for a second, whilst she’d fussed around with something in the hall.

You swing open the door only to feel something swipe across the crown of your head – mistletoe dangling on a red ribbon from the doorframe between you and an equally looking surprised Leon, before realisation sets in across his face.

Your stomach sinks at what he must think.

“Wait, I did not put that-“

He smiles. “It was for you.”

“Huh?”

“The mistletoe. Not this one.” He clarifies, the plant still swinging side to side between the two of you. “Last time you came back from winter break. I’d hung it up at the entrance to the stables for you getting back, wanted to surprise you and then Lorelie Becker walked up, got all giddy, pulled me forward. I didn’t know you’d seen-”

You shake your head. “Look, I don’t know what Grandma told you, but-“

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“I said,” he dips his head to remove his hat, “can I kiss you?”

You don’t respond – your body apparently switching into autopilot instead to those four words. You stand up on your tip toes, a hand flat on his chest for balance and kiss him ever so gently on the lips before your mind finally kicks into gear and you begin to retreat, an apology on the tip of your tongue.

But there’s an arm around your waist now, fingers threading through your hair on the back of your head as you’re pulled back into a desperate and long overdue kiss.

Grandma’s voice rings out from the kitchen.

“About dang time!”

--

[rottencoreofalpes]

Unfiltered thoughts i posted in the server

ch4 spoilers:

Tw: suicide, suicidal thoughts,

Watari was a 17 year old girl, who NEVER mentioned anything she could go back to. She seemed to suffocate under the pressure of her home life. She was an active girl that had a lot of responsibilities such as home chores, taking care of her siblings, cooking for her family (something that if she did not do, we found out no dinner would be served at home that day) and she also had her dancing team too, which she led. She was the reason if divorcing of her parents and she hoped during the divorce her dad would pick her so she wouldn't have to live a life where she needed to act as her sibling's parent.

Do you know HOW important that point is? Because for a kid to force their parents into divorce just so they could escape parentification, it means said child is NOT doing well at all. As we know, her plan failed and it made things even harder on her because now she knew that their father did not love them. And so she goes on with her life and the busy schedule imo makes it harder to process her emotions about her siblings and mom.

And ho behold, suddenly she finds herself kidnapped into a killing take. A game in which she has something she never had before; free time. Free time to think about her life, free time to try and have fun. During the killing game she remains loud and cheerful and optimistic. She seems happy, right? Well, yeah, but she also never brings up her life. The killing game seemed like a place where she finally managed to escape the responsibilities thrust upon her back home. And of course with that much time and seeing other students die, she starts to think about her life. She loses a dear friend (Okazaki) and at the same time discovers that she did not know that person like she thought she did. At. All. She had to grapple with the fact that her friend ruined the lives of many ppl for nothing but theatrics. She can't even talk about Okazaki to others and how despite everything Okazaki did, her heart mourns her.

Because no one else was close to Okazaki and most ppl had negative opinions on her (wada,hayashi, yanagi, ojima, hiroaki). So ofc she had to keep her thoughts to herself and try to make sense of her grief. And then, she just. Gets tired. Her life song is pretty interesting to me, because it sounds... melancholic in a way. She decides that she doesn't have anything joyful she could go back to. She decides that her life should just end and well, why not do something useful with your suicide? Why not save one of the few ppl that has struggled a lot in this killing game? Hama who has his little sister and mom to go back to? Hama who promised to treat her like a little sister and to be her older brother.

Shes tired. Shes gonna die. The others she isnt as close with. She is *selfish* she HAS the right to be selfish once in her life, her whole life was selfless sacrifice for ppl who didnt even appreciate her. So why not try and save Hama as a bonus?

I think Watari deserved so much more grace than ppl are willing to give her.

Yes, Hama died because of her actions, but so did Isono, so did Chiba, so did Kamimura and Tsuno. Watari isnt the first person who killed someone with their plan.

Also cmon, guys. Suicide and depression TRAMPS loggic. She was clearly the representation of "People that smile brightest aren't always that happy"

I don't think she used Hama. Honestly her plan was pretty bright. She had ppl confused for a long time. She did make a choice for Hama, which is unfair BUT wr have to think of it in her POV

and whrn youre spiralling and thinking of killing yourself you arent acting too logically

Also, idk, personally i feel like her suicide was handled very well.

Suicide and suicidal ideations suck. Okay? They do. They are awful. No one wants to paint them positively! Because they arent. When a human being starts to fantasize about their suicide THEY dont do it just for the fun of it. Suicide is refered to so as the cancer of the brain, because it infests your brain without your permission. It robs you of logic, of emotions. IT gives you tunnel sight which js trained only on ending the hrt you feel inside of your chest. It tires out out. Drains the life out of you. Why are we demanding perfection from a depressed person?