#i will never stop complaining about the heat

[eightmakesonebraincell]

and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky (teaser)

genre: poly doctors!ateez x doctor fem!reader, hospital romance, established relationship, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 1.6k (teaser) + approx. 37k (full fic)

c/w: slightly aged-up characters, slow burn except it's burning in reverse, lots of medical themes, remaining tags to be revealed with full fic

synopsis: after transferring during the last year of your residency program, you work alongside your eight boyfriends at kq hospital. it becomes harder to keep your relationship the same as it used to be as you all navigate the respective challenges of being doctors and nurses. you come to experience love and loss in both warmth and coldness, but only one of them will keep your relationship alive.

a/n: not my titles becoming increasingly longer with each oneshot i write 💀 but this is probably my fave one yet and i hope it slaps when the full fic drops

your feet drag against the floor as you trudge listlessly back to your locker, body heavy as if you are caught in the very midst of a snowstorm. your shoulders cave even further in on themselves when you check your phone to see no reply from hongjoong.

you want nothing more than to bury yourself in your boyfriend’s arms, nose pressed against the soothing rumble of his chest as he listens to you complain about your day. it will not change anything about the situation with dr. lim and dr. nam but at least you will be able to release the hot steam that has built up from the bubbling pit of lava in your chest.

if hongjoong is still working, perhaps you can sit in his office and wait on his couch. his presence will be enough to keep you grounded.

some of the nurses in the neurology ward greet you cordially as you exit the elevator and you return their smile before sitting on a bench further down the corridor to avoid being in anybody’s way. you test your chances and call hongjoong’s number, only to hear the line ring until it sends you to his voicemail. when another attempt ten minutes later yields the same result, you send a text telling him to call you when he is finished.

you resign yourself to the bench with a passive sigh and wait, all the while a tempest swirling inside of you. eventually, one of the junior residents tilts her head at the sight of you still sitting on the bench, having passed by you almost twenty minutes ago in the same position. she calls out, “doctor l/n?”

you jerk up from where you are fiddling with your phone. recognising her as hongjoong’s colleague, you ask, “i’m just waiting for doctor kim. do you happen to know where he is?”

“doctor kim?” she furrows her brows, “he left already. he actually left early today.”

“oh.”

the heat in your chest suddenly dissipates, immediately replaced by a frigid hollowness that makes your mind go blank instead. horrified, you feel your eyes involuntarily start to prickle with tears no matter how hard you will for them to disappear.

“do you want me to pass a message on for you?” the resident looks at you with a twinge of concern, but mostly curiosity.

you shake your head and mumble, “no, that’s okay, thanks,” then rush away to avoid embarrassing yourself any further. deciding against asking one of your other boyfriends to drive you home, you forgo catching the bus too in favour of walking through the streets.

it’s not even a big deal. we’ve all forgotten about dates before and hongjoong would never deliberately blow you off.

you know that. you know this is not something you need to be upset over and you know that your boyfriend must have a reason. yet knowing does nothing to stop the trembling of your lips as you swipe furiously at your dripping tears with the back of your hand. on top of everything that has piled up today, hongjoong forgetting about your date is enough to topple it over completely.

the light snowfall from earlier has already stopped but the temperature remains just as low. as you tread through the chalky streets home, thoughts creeping through your mind like the fractal branches of a snowflake–fragile and delicate–you welcome the numbing chill around you instead and let it paralyse your emotions like an anaesthetic.

by the time you reach the front door, you have collected yourself enough. the rims of your eyes and the tip of your nose still have a slight redness to them but your appearance can easily be dismissed by the biting cold outside. you unlock the door and walk in.

you are met with immediate warmth; from the residual heat of shared dinner, from the streaming glow of lights, from the peals of low laughter. walking through the corridor almost feels like walking through a warped tunnel of dissociation–so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

san sits on the couch, languidly scrolling on his phone with an arm wrapped around yeosang’s shoulders, who is flicking through a thin booklet of paper. sitting cross-legged at the coffee table in front of them in a stark contrast of mess is hongjoong–hongjoong who is hunched over his own booklet with a newly-made carpet and tablecloth of thesis and journal articles, textbooks and tablets.

you are so caught up by the hurricane of a scene that you do not realise you are about to step on the corner of a textbook until hongjoong’s head snaps up to look at you.

“be careful!” his warning cry is sharp with alarm.

your body jolts and you step backwards. “sorry.”

despite san and yeosang’s chirpy greetings, you remain frozen to the spot. the two of them clamber up to pull you into an excited hug, only to pause when they realise there is no way to navigate the landmine of paper scattered around the room, so they settle back into the cushions instead.

“don’t mind the mess,” yeosang giggles, unaware of the sudden onset of unease that courses through your body. “even seonghwa has given the okay for him to do this.”

your words come out thick and sticky as you ask, “what is hongjoong doing?”

san’s voice is sympathetic, “there was a last-minute change to his presentation that he’s doing at that annual neurological association meeting. his department head wants him to do a different topic.”

“he could’ve told me, i don’t know, five fucking months ago,” hongjoong curses fiercely at his tablet, “but he just had to wait until my presentation was basically done to let me know.”

you have had a bad day…but so has hongjoong.

the door opens behind you. fumbling for a moment, you try to make yourself smaller against the wall to make room for whoever of your boyfriends has returned. it is mingi back from his shift which tells you just how long you had waited for hongjoong, considering mingi’s shift ended almost two hours after yours did.

“y/n?” mingi’s eyes widen slightly as he smiles, the sight of you a pleasant surprise. he asks, “did you and hongjoong come back from your date already?”

you wince at the bomb he has unwittingly dropped; the very one you yourself were still unsure how to navigate.

“shit,” hongjoong’s head snaps towards you again but for an entirely different reason this time. “holy fuck. oh my fucking god.” his hands flutter as he upturns the scattered notes around him in search of his phone, face draining of all colour as it dawns on him he had silenced his notifications. “the date–i forgot. fuck, i am so fucking sorry, y/n.”

your boyfriends on the couch watch with darting eyes and mingi glances at you cautiously. in some twisted reality, you almost feel immobilised by guilt as hongjoong stumbles to his feet, grasping the phone he has finally found from where it had been tossed under the table.

nothing changes the fact that he forgot nor the fact that you have had a rough day. but just as you had realised, hongjoong has also had a rough day, if not worse than yours. and as with any relationship, one will always have to yield under pressure lest both people break.

swallowing thickly, you manage to force out, “that’s okay. i forgot too.”

a white lie, but a white lie has never hurt anybody.

mingi catches the slight twist of your fingers in the side of your jacket. he murmurs, “let’s go inside,” then tugs you by the elbow. he steps you carefully through the landmines further into the living room, gingerly toeing papers inches aside to reveal the floorboards underneath for the both of you to step on. hongjoong is still looking at you remorsefully as you near, his hands itching to reach out but afraid they will not be met with forgiving ones.

“it’s okay, joong, really,” you extend your fingers in his direction and gently squeeze his hand. “sorry to hear about your presentation. i know how hard you’ve worked on it the past few months.”

sadness still lingers in your boyfriend’s eyes at having made such a careless mistake despite the grateful smile he gives you. “i’ll make it up to you after the presentation is finished,” he vows. “i’ll take you out for a nice dinner and i promise i won’t forget this time.”

you chuckle softly with a reassuring nod, “okay.”

“what about you? how was your day?” hongjoong asks.

an hour ago you wanted nothing more than the comfort he could offer while you vented about your day and you are almost certain fatigue and frustration are smeared across your face right now. yet you simply answer, “it was a long day but it was good.”

another white lie.

before your boyfriends can probe any further, you state, “i’m going to take a shower first. might head to sleep early today.” you lean forward to give hongjoong a chaste kiss, who easily relaxes into it with relief. you turn to rise onto your tiptoes to give mingi one too before meeting yeosang and san halfway from where they kneel on the couch to also kiss you goodnight.

then you turn and retreat to your room. it is not all too bad, you reconcile with yourself. alone time would be good after today’s events.

a third white lie.

but again, that is fine, because a white lie never hurt anybody…nobody except for yourself.

taglist pt. one | apply | comment to be tagged for this fic only

@thecarnivaloflies @ilovekimhongjoong @ifykyunho @ppprimary @hwas-housewife 

@itza-meee @lavishloving @okshu @mizumigi @everythingboutkpop

@ayytease @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hongjoongsprincess @booyoungie @green-agent

@darkmentalitystarfish-blog @taytayy178 @babymbbatinygirl @oddracha @sourkimchi

@mimilia1801 @kibs-and-bits @mlysalt @jjoongstar @aaa-sia

@nollamuumialaaksossa @skz1-4-3 @minkilicious @joongscheese @ddeonghwva

@delulu18 @teenyfinds @shakalakaboomboo @hxpelesscxven @fureastel

@seomisaho @levishun @lesyeuxdeanna @readerofallthingss @potatos-on-clouds

@apriecotte @hhoneylix @kyeos4ng @smally97 @savluvsmingi

[blondemrk]

wait i just saw 10 got filled so envelope 1 + mark 🪼

LATE NIGHT RAMEN

p mark x fem!reader genre angst/fluff wc 2.1k

you don’t know what stroke of bad luck led you to this, but somehow, you ended up with mark lee as your roommate.

it was supposed to be a temporary thing—just until your original housing situation got sorted out. but weeks turned into months, and now, you’re stuck with him. the boy who leaves his shoes in the middle of the living room like a trap. the boy who blasts his guitar at ungodly hours. the boy who somehow never remembers that dishes don’t clean themselves.

it’s unbearable.

“you left your laundry in the machine again,” you snap, throwing his clothes onto the couch.

mark, lying upside down on the floor for no reason, just grins at you lazily. “thanks for bringing them in.”

“that wasn’t meant to be helpful.”

but mark never takes anything seriously, so of course, he just stretches and sits up, ruffling his hair like he’s the main character in some rom-com. “you stress too much,” he teases, smirking.

“you annoy me too much.”

it’s always like this—snarky remarks, bickering over who finished the last of the cereal, and arguing about his terrible taste in music. mark has a way of pushing every single one of your buttons, and you hate that it’s so easy for him.

it starts over something stupid.

as most of your fights do.

you come home after a long day, exhausted, already feeling the weight of a million little frustrations pressing down on you. all you want is to reheat some leftovers and go to bed. but the moment you open the fridge, you realize something.

the container of pasta you made last night—the one thing you were looking forward to—is gone.

“mark!” you yell, slamming the fridge shut.

a beat of silence. then—

“yeah?”

you storm into the living room, where mark is sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone like he doesn’t have a care in the world. he glances up at you, one eyebrow raised, and you can already feel irritation crawling up your spine.

“where’s my food?”

mark blinks, like he has to think about it. “oh. that was yours?”

your jaw drops. “are you serious right now?”

he has the audacity to shrug. “i thought you weren’t gonna eat it.”

“oh, right, because i just love cooking for fun and leaving food in the fridge for no reason.”

mark sits up slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “relax, dude. i’ll buy you something tomorrow.”

“that’s not the point!” you throw your hands up, exasperated. “you always do this! you take my stuff, you leave a mess everywhere, you never listen when i tell you to stop—”

mark rolls his eyes. “jesus, it’s just food.”

“no, it’s not just food, mark! it’s everything.” your voice rises, frustration spilling over. “you don’t take anything seriously! you act like everything is a joke, like it doesn’t matter if you make my life harder—”

“because you’re always looking for something to be mad about!” mark snaps, standing up now. his usual easygoing expression is gone, replaced with something sharper. “god, do you ever stop complaining?”

you recoil, heat rushing to your face. “excuse me?”

mark lets out a humorless laugh. “you act like i’m the worst person in the world just because i’m not a control freak like you. news flash, roommate, not everything has to be a life-or-death situation.”

your hands curl into fists at your sides. “maybe if you actually cared about anything, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“i do fucking care!” mark’s voice is louder now, rough around the edges. “but you—you just assume the worst about me all the time. no matter what i do, you’re always gonna see me as the guy who’s never good enough for you.”

that stuns you into silence.

your breath is uneven, your heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears. you don’t know when the fight stopped being about food and started being about something else. something bigger.

mark exhales harshly, raking a hand through his hair. “you know what? forget it.” his voice is quieter now, but there’s something final in it. “i’m done.”

and then he walks away, slamming his door behind him.

leaving you standing there, chest heaving, hands shaking.

and the worst part? you don’t even know if you’re still angry—

—or if you just hate the way it hurts.

but why does it hurt? you hate him.. right?

the apartment feels different after the fight.

it’s not just the silence—although that part is deafening. it’s the way mark doesn’t acknowledge you when he walks past, the way he doesn’t joke around like he usually does, the way he keeps his door shut more often than not.

for the first time since you moved in, you miss the noise. the annoying hum of his guitar, his off-key singing from the kitchen, the sound of him laughing at his own stupid jokes.

but most of all, you miss him.

and that’s the worst part.

you don’t even know how the fight escalated the way it did. one second, you were yelling about food, and the next, mark was saying things you weren’t ready to hear.

“you’re always gonna see me as the guy who’s never good enough for you.”

his words haven’t stopped replaying in your head since that night.

you hate that it stings. because it means maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t completely wrong.

it goes on for days.

the cold war. the avoidance. the awkward, heavy silence that makes the apartment feel suffocating.

until one night, when you find him on the couch.

he’s sitting there, staring at the tv, but it’s clear he’s not really watching. there’s a crease between his brows, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against his knee. his usual easygoing energy is gone, replaced by something quieter.

you hesitate.

you could go back to your room. pretend you don’t care. pretend nothing’s wrong.

or you could do something about it.

with a deep breath, you step forward. “hey.”

mark stiffens slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him first. “hey."

silence stretches between you, thick and uncertain.

then—

“i shouldn’t have said all that,” you admit, crossing your arms. it’s not easy, swallowing your pride, but the weight in your chest won’t go away otherwise. “i was pissed, but… i didn’t mean to make it seem like i don’t—” you stop yourself. shift on your feet. “like i don’t see the things you do.”

mark exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. he looks exhausted. “i shouldn’t have snapped either. i just… i dunno, i was frustrated. it felt like no matter what i do, you always see me as the guy who doesn’t take things seriously.”

you chew on your lip, then sit down next to him. not too close, but close enough that your knees nearly touch. “i don’t actually think that,” you say, voice quieter now. “i was just being an asshole.”

mark glances at you, amusement flickering through his expression. “yeah. you were.”

you huff, elbowing him lightly. “you’re supposed to say, ‘no, it’s okay, you’re totally justified in all things.’”

mark snorts, shaking his head. but then he leans back against the couch, exhaling. “i don’t wanna fight with you.”

you swallow. “me neither.”

another beat of silence.

then, in a voice so soft you almost miss it, mark says, “i don’t hate living with you, you know.”

your heart stumbles over itself. you turn to look at him, but he’s already focused on the tv, like it didn’t take everything in him to say that out loud

you breathe in slowly. then, barely above a whisper—

“yeah. me neither.”

and somehow, just like that, the weight between you starts to lift.

things don’t go back to normal immediately.

the tension lingers, the memory of the argument still fresh. but the ice starts to thaw—slowly, subtly.

mark stops avoiding you. you start talking to him again.

it’s not perfect, but it’s something.

and then one night, something changes.

it’s late when you walk into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you were up studying, brain fried, stomach grumbling. you expect the apartment to be quiet, mark probably already passed out in his room.

but instead, you find him at the kitchen counter, sitting cross-legged on a stool, lazily munching on a bag of chips.

he glances up when you walk in. “yo.”

you blink at him. “what are you still doing up?”

mark shrugs, tossing a chip into his mouth. “couldn’t sleep.”

you open the fridge, searching for something edible. “are we out of leftovers again?”

mark scratches the back of his neck, looking suspiciously guilty.

you narrow your eyes. “mark."

“okay, listen, technically i ate the last of them, but before you kill me, i made ramen.”

you pause. “you made ramen?”

mark grins, pushing a bowl toward you. “consider it a peace offering. and its about all i can cook..."

you hesitate for a second, then sigh, accepting the bowl. “i guess this is a step up from you just eating my food with zero remorse.”

he smirks. “see? character development.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t stop the small smile from tugging at your lips as you take a seat across from him.

the apartment is quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the occasional crunch of mark’s chips. you’re not sure why you’re both still awake at this hour, but for the first time in a while, it doesn’t feel awkward.

mark leans his chin in his hand, watching you eat. “hey,” he says suddenly, voice softer.

you glance up. “what?”

his gaze lingers on you for a second longer than necessary. “we’re good, right?”

something in your chest tightens.

you don’t know why, but the way he says it—like it matters—makes your stomach flip.

you swallow, setting your chopsticks down. “yeah,” you murmur. “we’re good.”

mark exhales, a small smile tugging at his lips. “cool.”

and maybe it’s the late-night haze, or the warmth of the ramen settling in your stomach, or the way mark is looking at you—not like you’re his annoying roommate, but like you’re something else—but for the first time since moving in, you think…

maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world.

you’re both on the couch, a movie playing in the background. you weren’t even planning to watch it, but somewhere between mark saying, “just one episode, come on,” and you rolling your eyes, you ended up here—sitting too close, sharing the same blanket, the flickering light from the tv casting shadows across his face.

you’re tired. sleepy in that comfortable, heavy way where everything feels a little softer, a little less real.

mark is sitting next to you, his arm draped over the back of the couch. you should move. there’s plenty of space. but you don’t.

you’re barely paying attention to the movie when you feel it.

mark shifts beside you, stretching his arms—casual, unbothered—until suddenly, his fingers graze your shoulder.

it’s the lightest touch. a barely-there brush of skin against skin.

but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

you tell yourself you’re imagining it. that mark isn’t really leaning in, that his gaze isn’t flickering to your lips, that the space between you isn’t disappearing.

but then—

his fingers skim your wrist, hesitant but deliberate. testing the waters.

your heart stutters.

you turn to look at him, and—god.

he’s close. too close.

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a second, just a second, you think—

is he going to kiss me?

the air shifts, thick with something unspoken. neither of you moves, but neither of you pulls away either.

then, the sound of a loud car horn blaring outside makes you both jolt.

the moment shatters.

mark blinks, pulling back so fast it’s like he just realized what was happening. “uh—” he clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “i should, uh. get some water.”

you swallow hard, nodding. “yeah. yeah, good idea.”

mark practically jumps off the couch, making a beeline for the kitchen.

you sit there, heart pounding, staring at the screen without really seeing it.

because something almost happened just now.

and the fact that you’re disappointed it didn’t?

that’s a whole new problem.

@chenlezip @holyhaech @mrkified @injvns @polarisjisung

did yall miss me or what..

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʜᴏᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴇꜱ ᴀʟʟ

𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨… 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬, ���𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵��𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵

Her morning starts off… decent. She wakes up just the right amount of time before her alarm, her coffee isn’t burnt, she detangles her earphones in one go, and for once, the bus isn’t too packed.

But as soon as she steps into the office, the air becomes charged. Stiff. Heavy. Phones are ringing, voices are tense, and her inbox is already flooded with emails marked urgent.

“Did you get the schedule update?” someone asks before she even sits down.

“Can you call the supplier? Again?”

“Tell them we need it today. I don’t care what they said yesterday.”

She barely manages to put her bag down before the phone rings. Then another. And another. She answers, types, forwards messages, all while people come and go, barely acknowledging her except to dump more work on her desk. She’s used to it. Being the receptionist means being everyone’s go-between, but today, it feels like too much.

By mid-morning, her head aches, her stomach twists with frustration, and every clipped tone or impatient sigh directed at her makes her fingers tighten around her pen. At one point, she opens her mouth to complain.

“I swear, if one more person-” she stops herself mid-sentence, forcing a smile as someone passes by. She exhales sharply, resting her chin in her palm. “Never mind.”

By noon, the steady barrage of demands and stress has worn her down. She rubs at her temples, exhaling slowly. Her phone buzzes… a message from her fiancé. She glances at it, expecting something sweet, but it’s just a reminder that he won’t be home for dinner. Out with his friends. No question about her day. No ‘hope work’s not too crazy.’ Nothing.

Matt watches her from his desk. He might consider himself pretty above it all, but the tension in the office is getting to him too.

He’s been here long enough to know when people are on edge, but he’s also been here long enough to notice when she’s having a bad day. And right now, she looks like she needs a break.

He exhales sharply through his nose, logs out of his computer, and stands. Making his way over, he leans against her desk. “You busy?”

She gives him a look.

“Right. Dumb question.” Smiling, he taps the desk lightly, voice casual. “Want to get out of here for a bit?”

She hesitates. But when the phone rings again, she makes up her mind. An early lunch break might not be the worst thing in the world.

Five minutes later, they’re outside, hands wrapped around hot chocolate cups, the cold air sharp against their skin.

Matt can’t help but notice the flush on her cheeks from the wind, her hair a little messy in that way that makes her look even more like herself. It’s a small thing, but he finds it kind of… endearing. He takes a sip of his drink, leaning back against the brick wall outside the office building, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

She sighs into her cup, the steam rising in front of her face, and it feels like the kind of relief she’s been needing. “Thanks for this,” she says, her voice lighter, almost like a weight's been lifted just by stepping outside.

He shrugs, looking at her over the rim of his cup. “What are friends for, right?”

She smirks, glancing at him with that look, half amused, half tired. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to ‘take a break.’ Funny how you always seem to be right.”

“Hey, I’m not always right,” Matt replies, though his grin gives him away. “But I’ve been around long enough to know when you’re about to snap.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Lucky me.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, giving her a wink. “I don’t just give out these rescue missions to anyone.”

She snorts, and for a second, it feels like the air between them has lightened, like the whole day is a little less heavy. Her shoulders relax, the tension slipping away.

“Seriously, though,” she says, setting her cup down on the low wall beside them, “you didn’t have to. I would’ve survived.”

“I know. But you looked like you could use a break. And I’ve got your back.” He pauses for a beat, then adds, “Besides, hot chocolate is a proven cure-all.”

She looks at him for a moment, the smile that was lingering earlier turning into something softer. “Yeah, well, maybe I should start asking you for more of these breaks. You’re good at picking the right moments.”

“You’re very welcome.” he says, tone teasing but warm. Genuine.

She hums in acknowledgement, looking around the quiet street for a moment before glancing back at him. “I guess I should head back before the chaos picks up again.” She pauses, and there's something almost reluctant in her tone. “But… thanks, really. I didn’t even know I needed this.”

He shrugs, not even pretending it’s a big deal. “Anytime. You know where to find me when you need a break from the madness.”

She offers him a final appreciative smile before heading back to the office, the door swinging shut behind her. Matt stays there for a second longer, watching her go, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She doesn't look back, but something in the way she walks, more at ease than when she left, tells him he did something right. Not just with the hot chocolate, but with this.

As he swings the door open and steps inside, he notices her at her desk again, fingers tapping absently on her keyboard. He doesn’t say anything, just watches her for a second longer than he probably should.

She looks up at him, catching his gaze for a beat longer than he expected. It’s subtle… almost like a silent recognition. He’s not sure if she’s aware of it, but the moment stretches between them, just long enough to make him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to these moments.

And maybe, just maybe, Matt had made her feel better. Not just with the hot chocolate, but with the moment itself.

thank u rose for the dividers! @bernardsbendystraws <3

a/n: would very much apperciate a hot chocolate with matthew rn tbh. tysm for all the love on this au !! means the world :>

taglist: @sturnshood @blushsturns @mattsstarlet @throatgoat4u @sturnsrecord @applecidersturniolo @certainfestivalnerdshepherd @sosasturns @ifwdominicfike @cheriiboo @sturns-mermaid @solarsturniolo @sturnberries @jellychs @mattscherries @mattsturnsgirlie @snoopychris @hjvi @loverboysturn @backwardshatnick @kriissy4gov @priscillaog @ribbonlovergirl @irmantez @corspebridedelrey @and-a-monochrome-vision @pretty-random-writer @ilovebirds17 @snoopymatt @princesspeach0-0 @blahbel668 @marysongohmy @sturnl0ve comment to be added/removed to this au's taglist!

cya soon <3

[autumnheartsprice]

bf!simon riley x medic!reader

im a sucker for anything tf141 x medic! reader so here we are

|no warnings really, mentions of heat stroke, fluff, angsty i guess but like not really at all? idk anymore. not proofread|

Well, how did the task force find out the medic was dating the Simon Riley?

Instead of hiring some random guys, the boys took it upon themselves to fix up the landscape around the base and tend to all the things that's broken throughout the past few years. It was a few weeks until their next mission, that was fairly easy too, so they took it easy and didn't force such a harsh schedule upon themselves.

It was the middle of the summer, the sun right above their heads as they were in a heat wave - but who knows the next time they'll be free to even do this? Gaz and Soap were picking weeds as Soap complained about the heat non-stop, Price was in his office doing paperwork, but Ghost was doing all sorts of tasks and working himself up.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he takes a small break to see who it was, only to see your name next to a heart as the most recent notification.

Y/N🖤: You better be taking it easy out there.

S.R.: Always, love.

He got back to work, sweating through his black clothes but continuing to work anyway. "Ay, L.T., you're looking a bit hot, why don't you go take a break?" Soap calls out while wiping a bead of sweat away from his forehead. "Nah, I'm good." He stubbornly mumbles back.

He ran out of water a while ago but was too occupied to go get some more. He was starting to feel nauseous but blamed it on only having a cup or two of tea this morning with nothing to eat. As his vision doubled, he shook it off and decided to take his gloves off as if it'd fully cool him off. Soap nudged Gaz to look over at him and they both watched him silently as he was acting differently.

Ghost gets up from his crouching position and gets a wave of dizziness, he opts for reaching out for the nearest thing to stabilize himself but it turns out he was way further than he thought and lost his balance.

As he fell onto the ground, slightly bumping the back of his head, the two were quickly up and running towards Ghost and trying to get his attention. He was staring up at the tall trees in a dreamy state and panting heavily. Soap pulls his phone out and quickly dials the medic, telling her what happened through a strong, yet scared Scottish accent and telling her to hurry.

The medic runs up to the kitchen and grabs a cold water bottle from the fridge and a clean rag before running outside to find Gaz and Soap crouching down next to Ghost. She unscrew the cap of your bottle and pours some onto the rag; she gently wipes the liquid onto his jaw and cheek before placing it on his forehead and hoping it'll cool him down through the fabric on his mask.

She pulls out a blood pressure cuff and thermometer and starts doing both at once. Ghost moves his eyes over to stare at her and reaches out to grab her thigh, "Mm baby.. you didn't.. you didn't need to-.. come out here.." He mumbles as soon as she takes the thermometer out of his mouth and check it, normal temp. "Don't try to sweet talk me, I told you to take it easy." Soap and Gaz give each other a confused look at the way the two talk to each other .

"My love.. I was going.. easy.. must've just.. lost my balance.." He's deliriously talking at this point. "Ay L.T., I told you to take a break because you looked rough. Working yourself like a dog out here." Soap argues.

Ghost watches her give him a 'I'm gonna fuck you up' stare and he groans. "Baby.. I'd never lie.."

"Really? You're going to say that while you're about to have a fucking heat stroke?" Her voice is harsh but it's hard to be mad at him while he's in such a state. "Love.. I'm sorry.. please don't curse at me.." He mumbles, gripping the fat of her thigh.

She sighs while pressing the rag into his forehead more to let it take its effect more. She convinces Gaz to help her take his hoodie off, and it reveals his arm filled with tattoos.

She moves him into her bedroom and opens the window to let some air come in. After replacing the rag with a colder one, he starts to get less delusional and forms more complete sentences. He cuddles into her and almost, almost, gets her to forgive him. "Baby, I'm sorry.." he mumbles into your chest. "You're stupid."

He sighs before replying, "I know, I know.. I can make it up to you later?" He suggests, earning a smack on the back of his head.

She texts the other medic that she can't finish your shift but it was almost time for nightshift to come in anyway. After hitting the send button, you get a notification from a new group called "???" with her, Soap and Gaz. The first text reading, "Soo... are you two together or what?" from Gaz. After replying yes, Soap states "Gaz, you owe me a 20 now."

[millers-angel]

I need more about this fic (beach trip). Please give us more chapters, more drama, more smut.

beach trip — second night.

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

thanks to everyone who read the first part! <3 first of all, the dry humping part is because of that damn picture, look how bulky he is, anyone would be lucky to dry hump him. this is mostly smut! summary: the day after losing your virginity to your dad's best friend, you just want more, no matter if other people are around, but also you sneak to joel's room in the middle of the night. warnings: dry humping in public, use of pet names, masturbation, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (reader isn't on birth control), praising kink, creampie. wc: 5.5k

You were taking a sunbath by the beach, on those bed-like lounge chairs. Dad and Joel were most likely at the bar, but you... you have your mind somewhere else.

You haven't stopped thinking about last night, it was... a lot. You've been thinking about tonight, about sneaking to Joel's room when you're sure dad is not gonna interrupt.

You haven't stopped thinking about last night, about the way Joel touched you, how he made you feel things you never even knew you could. It didn’t matter that he’d been an idiot before with that guy at the bar—he more than made up for it. Besides, he proved something you’d been dying to know: he wanted you, at least in that way.

Joel was always so quiet, so reserved, but last night... last night he was anything but that. He showed you a different side of him, one that made you weak and your body ache to feel him again.

You were trying to think of something else, the beach, how nice the weather was even, but then it was just him again.

"Hey," to your surprise, it was him, Joel, sitting next to you in the chair.

"Hey," you fixed your hair nervously, as if he could read your mind. "Where's dad?"

He nodded at the direction he came from. "Found some folks who played cards... so he will be busy for a bit," you both chuckled.

"Oh, well..." you played with your feet. "You didn't want to join them?"

He made a face. "Not really," he sighed. "Also, your dad asked me to keep an eye on you."

You scoffed, crossing your own arms. “He thinks I can’t take care of myself?”

Joel chuckled, his gaze full of amusement. “Wow, and here I thought you wouldn’t complain.”

Your cheeks flushed. It was embarrassing how much you actually wanted to be around him. How you’d been waiting for a chance to sneak away together again. But you wouldn’t admit that, not out loud.

“I’m not complaining,” you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant.

His grin was wide. “Sure doesn’t sound like it,” he teased. “Actin’ like you didn’t like it last night.”

Your heart skipped, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to come up with something to say. But nothing came out, not when the memory of his hands on you was so fresh, so vivid.

"Are you sore, though?" he asked.

"Do I look sore?" you teased back.

Joel’s eyes trailed over you, slower this time, taking his time as he looked you up and down. You were stretched out on the lounge chair, your sun-kissed skin glowing under the light. The two-piece swimsuit shaped every curve perfectly, leaving just enough to his imagination, although he has already seen it. His gaze locked on the way the fabric sat on your hips, how it pressed on your breasts, how your slopes pump perfectly for him.

“You look…” His voice was low, almost a murmur. “You look good.” His eyes darkened, going back up to meet yours, but not before taking one more long look at you. “Too good.”

Your heart skipped a beat, heat blooming across your cheeks and between your legs. You swallowed, suddenly self-counscious of how little you were wearing, how exposed you felt under his gaze—and how much you liked it.

But you couldn’t help yourself—you looked at him the same way.

He was wearing swim trunks, low on his hips. Your eyes swayed, just for a moment, stopping at the way he was bulky on the crotch, your mouth went dry. You knew you shouldn’t look, but you couldn’t help it.

When you looked back up, his eyes were on you, his lips curling into that lazy, knowing smirk. “Caught you starin’, sweet girl.”

Your face went hot, and you quickly looked away. “Was not,” you mumbled, but you could still feel his eyes on you.

He leaned in just a little, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Liar.”

You huffed. "So what? You were doin' the same thing, old man."

“Old man, huh?” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “You keep callin’ me that and you're gonna end up on your knees.”

You swallowed. "Why would I even get on my knees for?" You knew what he meant, but you wanted to play with him.

He chuckled, his gaze dropped to your lips, staying there before his eyes met yours. He leaned in, his face close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. "You're a little tease, aren't you, angel?"

"Yeah? What you're gonna do about it?"

His grin widened. There it was—the bratty virgin he talked about last night. Sure, you weren’t a virgin anymore, but that defiance was still there, alive and kicking. It made him chuckle.

He liked that about you. Hell, he liked everything about you.

"What am I gonna do? I just told you, I'm gonna get you on your knees."

Your breath hitched, your eyes searching his for some sign of hesitation, but all you saw was hunger, raw and unapologetic. Your heart raced. You were dangerously close now, his face inches from yours but your eyes never left his.

His hand slid up, resting on your inner thigh, fingers curling just slightly. His touch was gentle. “You keep lookin’ at me like that,” his voice dropped to a rough whisper, “and I’m not gonna be able to stop myself.”

"Too bad we're in public," you teased, taking a step back from him.

His eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as you stepped away. But before you could take another breath, he closed the distance, his hand catching your waist, pulling you against him. His mouth was on yours, rough and demanding, lips firm as his fingers dug into your skin.

You gasped, but he swallowed the sound, his tongue teasing yours, his other hand slipping to the back of your neck to hold you there. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were wild, his breathing heavy. “Public or not, you keep pushin’ me, and I won’t care who’s watchin’.”

You bit your lip decided to be brave enough to test him. Your lips pressed against his again, not rough as he had been, but gentle, the softness of your lips makes him weak, needy.

Your hand dropped to his lap, going up to his crotch, feeling the shape of his dick over the fabric of his trunks. He broke the kiss immediately.

He looked around and there was almost anyone on the beach—not close at least, just people taking sunbaths near the shore.

His gaze darkened and you just laughed, as if you've won, which you're far from doing.

"I need you to go to the shore and come back, then you sit on my lap." His voice was commanding, not playful.

"What?"

"If you don't want that then we can just fuck here, right now."

You blinked and stood up, walking slowly to the shore as he asked you to, slightly letting your feet get damped with water. You turned around before walking to him.

He had shifted in his seat, now lounging on the bed-like beach chair with his legs slightly apart, looking relaxed but undeniably masculine. His arms were draped casually, his posture lazy yet somehow commanding, his eyes fixed on you.

You sighed and made your way to him, kinda nervous, what does he has in mind? Fucking? No, it would be dangerous.

But you did as he said and when you got to him, you sat on his lap. His arms wrapped you immediately.

"Now you're gonna cum, sweet girl." He said leaving sloppy kisses on your back.

"What?" You gulped. "How?"

"You're gonna move these," his hands shifted to your hips and patted them. "But slow... unless you want to make a scene, or worse."

You could fight with him on that, maybe tell him he was a pervert for doing something like that in public, but the truth is... you want it as much as he does.

You nodded and started doing as he said. Slowly swaying your hips on his bulge. There it was, you could feel it in your core, bricked up and throbbing, pleading to come out.

You weren't an expert, in fact, you've done this only once with a guy and it was nothing like this. You had no idea if you were moving good—you weren't, but it felt good. It looked adorable to him, the way you let your body guide you.

One of his hands shifted from your hips to your chest, he let it rest on your breast, cupping it, squeezing it just a little, making you feel good, making you shiver.

You were muffling moans, trying not to do anything that might attract atention, but you were failing.

"Better keep it quiet." He said against your ear.

You let your butt fell a little too hard on his crotch, making him groan. "Better keep it quiet," you teased, looking at him over your shoulder.

His hand curled on your hair, pulling it a little. He thrusts his hips up, meeting your movements, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases his own pleasure.

"Joel—" you whimpered.

You can feel it in your core, you're all wet, sensitive. Joel smirks, feeling your body shudder against him.

"You're so responsive," he says, his voice low and rough. "It drives me fucking crazy."

He tightens his grip on your hips, guiding your movements as you continue to grind against him, his own body trembling with need.

"Does it feel good?" You asked softly.

You could feel his cock twitching, he must be glazing inside his trunks, just as you are. He groaned and pulled your hair in response. His thrusts became faster, more needy than before.

His hand dropped your hair to come to your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough to make his way to your crotch, finding your clit over your swimsuit.

You couldn't help to moan when he started drawing circles on it, he could feel how warm and wet you were, how swollen and flushed your poor little pussy must be. The idea drove him crazy enough to come, but he didn't—yet.

Your movements went more frentic too. Now either of you could hide what you were doing, and couldn't care less about the people nearby too. You were too lost in each other, like two cavemen driven by raw instinct, seeking nothing but pleasure.

Your walls throbbed and your whole body was twitching, it felt too good. Joel's fingers work faster, his touch becoming more firm as he circles your clit, his other hand holding you steady so you can grind against him even more.

He was in pain, he needed to come, but he wanted you to do it first. He can feel your softness over the clothes, he can feel how wet you are for him, how needy you are.

"I'm gonna—"

"Yeah, that it. Come f'me." He growled on your ear.

He pressed his fingers too hard on your clit and one moment to the other, your hips movements went low, but that didn't stop him to keep playing with your clit, as he creamed his trunks.

You both were panting, trying to catch your breaths. You didn't move from his lap, just let your body go limp over him. He chuckled and moved you to the chair, laying you back down gently. His eyes met yours, a satisfied grin on his face.

“That was…” you started, still catching your breath, “I liked that.”

His fingers brushed a stray hair from your face. “Yeah?” He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. “Me too, angel. More than you know.”

"Did you finish?" you asked, barely confused.

He laughed. "I did,"

You bit your lip. "Can I see?"

"What?"

"Yeah, I mean, I wanna see how it looks," You swallowed. "If that's okay."

His gaze was filled with amusment, and this time, he looked around before lifting his trunks. You moved your head immediately to take a peep of him.

Your gaze darkened when you saw the mess you made. His pubes were all covered in cum, so was his length, his tip all flushed and swollen.

Your hand moved, wanting to touch him, but he held your wrist and fixed his trunks before you could go any further.

"You need it that bad?"

Your heart raced, his words sinking in. You looked up at him, cheeks warming as you whispered, “I want to do it again.”

He laughed softly, a deep, rumbling sound that made your stomach flutter. “Oh, I know.” His voice low and rough, “But not here. Not where anyone can see you like this.”

You shivered at his possessive tone, a heat sparking inside you all over again. “Tonight?” you asked, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” he promised, his thumb tracing your jawline. “Tonight.”

The day passed slowly. You spent the afternoon with your dad and Joel, watching the sunset from the beach, the sky painted in shades of pink and orange as the waves lapped at the shore. It was peaceful, dad's arm around your shoulders as he talked about old memories, laughing at his own jokes. You missed moments like this—simple, carefree.

Later, the three of you went to dinner. The restaurant was lively, filled with laughter and clinking glasses. Joel sat across from you, occasionally meeting your eyes with a knowing look that made your heart race. You tried to act normal, joining the conversation, laughing at dad’s stories, but you couldn’t ignore the way Joel’s leg brushed against yours under the table.

After dinner, as you all headed back to your rooms, your dad stopped you, his hand on your shoulder. “Hey, the bar’s having live music tonight,” he said. “If you wanna go, have some fun.”

You smiled. “I’ll think about it.”

Joel’s voice was casual, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Thought I saw you there last night... with some guy.”

You held back a laugh, thinking about how shameless he could be. “Yeah? It was boring, though,” you said, your eyes meeting his for a split second before you looked away. “Probably won’t go again.”

Your dad nodded, giving you a warm smile. “Well, up to you. It’s your vacation, kiddo. Goodnight.” He gave you a quick hug before walking to his room.

“Goodnight, daddy,” you called after him, your heart fluttering as Joel stayed a moment longer, his gaze lingering before he turned away.

You stood there for a moment, the night air cool against your skin, knowing exactly where you’d be once your dad fell asleep.

You went back to your room, closing the door quietly behind you. The events of the day replayed in your mind as you turned on the shower, letting the warm water wash away the sand and salt. You took your time, the anticipation building with every passing second.

Once you were out, you slipped into a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt. It wasn’t anything sexy—not like you had planned on doing anything during this trip. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest at the thought of where you were headed.

You waited, listening carefully, making sure your dad’s room was silent. Then, heart pounding, you slipped out of your room, moving quickly down the hall. You barely breathed as you ran to Joel’s door, the cool tiles cold under your feet.

You knocked once, and the door opened almost immediately. His hand shot out, grabbing your waist as he pulled you inside, the door clicking shut behind you.

His lips were on yours before you could speak, rough and desperate, his hands on your hips, pressing you against him. You gasped, fingers curling in his shirt, and he groaned, his mouth moving hungrily over yours.

“Couldn't wait, huh?” he whispered against your lips, his voice low, teasing.

Your heart raced, your knees weakening as his hands tightened on your waist. “Neither could you,” you shot back, and he laughed, his mouth crashing against yours again.

Your breath hitched when his hands moved lower, gripping the back of your thighs. Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. You clung to him.

He laid you down on the bed, his body pressing over yours, his weight warm and familiar. His eyes were dark, trailing you as he leaned in, his lips brushing your jaw, your neck.

You shivered, your heart pounding as his mouth moved lower, his hands sliding under your shirt, his touch sending sparks down your spine.

“Still thinkin’ about last night?” he murmured, his voice rough against your skin.

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders, your breath catching as his mouth found yours again. “Yeah… and tonight.”

His laugh was deep, his lips curving against yours before he kissed you harder, his hands exploring, his body pressing closer. “Good.”

"You promised I could touch you tonight."

Oh, so you really meant it, he thought.

"We're gonna talk first, sweet girl." He clicked his tongue.

You nodded, shifting your position in bed to sit on your knees.

“Have you ever touched a man… like that?” You sighed and shook your head. “Before last night, have you ever seen someone’s dick?”

Your cheeks flushed. “I mean, not in person,”

“What?” He frowned, confused.

“Just… just in videos.” It was more embarrassing than you thought, it should be a common thing, right? But it felt embarrassing to admit.

His smile made you feel even worse. “You’re a filthy little thing, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Forget it,”

“There it is, the stubborn virgin,” he seemed delighted.

“I’m not a virgin anymore.”

“You act like one,” he shrugged. “So if you watched those videos, I’m assuming you touch yourself,”

“No, I actually watch them for fun, Joel,” your tone laced with sarcasm.

“Show me,” his gaze went dark. “I wanna see how you touch yourself.”

You chuckled. “Why?”

His fingers played with the hem of your shirt before taking it off. “Because I wanna see it,” He could feel it, you were wearing nothing under it, your nipples went hard when they felt the cold breeze.

“Am I gonna touch you after?”

He nodded. “You’re gonna get on your knees after you show me how you touch yourself.”

You took a deep breath and he got rid of your shorts, leaving you bare on the bed. Your hands instinctively covering your private parts.

“You get naked too,” you murmured.

That’s fair. He took off his shirt, hair messy once it went over his head and the shirt fall to the floor, followed by his pants and boxers.

Your mouth went dry and your toes curled up on the sheet.

He chuckled and drew your knees apart, making you flush. “Now touch yourself,”

One kiss. It had been one kiss and a little touch from his side and you were already wet. Your pussy was puffy, flushed and slick with juices.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, you’re dying of the embarrassment, you've never done something like this. You spread your legs just a little more, ready to stroke your swollen and aching clit.

Once your fingers brushed it, you can't help to moan at your own touch. You draw circles around it. You let his name escape from your mouth once or twice, it's involuntary, but it has an effect on him.

He was delighted with the view, what a treasure his friend brought to earth. She was perfect. Your little fingers trying their best to get you pleasure.

"Get your fingers inside that pretty little hole." His voice makes you shiver.

You nod as you can and get a finger inside. It makes you whimper, even if it’s not as thick as his, it feels good. Your hips bucking at your own pace.

He was delighted hearing your little moans, seeing how your fingers comes out slick and the sound they make.

You feel his hand in your thigh, you open your eyes to look at him.

"Now let's try my fingers," he says. "Is that okay?" he asks.

"Y-yes," you say. "Please.”

He trail his fingers all over your pussy lips, his thumb stays in your clit and draw circles around it adding a little press every time he touched it. You can't help to whimper.

He tease your cunt with his index finger. "P-please, Joel," you say almost begging.

He slides a finger inside, slowly. Your back arches. You bite your lip to stifle a moan. "How does it feel?" he groans.

"F-fucking good," your voice laced with pleasure.

He doesn't stop rubbing your clit as he moves his index finger. "You’re fucking tight," he mumbles. "You have a pretty little thing in here." he made you spread your legs more to take a better look of your pussy.

"Is it okay of we try two fingers?" you nod.

He goes for the second finger and this time, you start to hear your own juices as he gets his fingers inside and out. "She needs to be touched so bad." he says groaning and you nod.

You lean your head against the headboard, parting your lips, letting moans escape from your mouth.

"Joel—" you cry out.

"Yeah?" he asks as he stops moving his fingers.

"Don't—" you feel like you're about to come. "Don't stop."

"Poor baby," his voice low, teasing. "She needs to come, doesn't she?" You nod.

He starts rubbing your clit again, moving his fingers inside you a little faster than before.

You grasp the pillow and say his mame over and over as your cunt throbs in his fingers. "'s okay," he says. "You're doing good," he sounds so... soft. "You can let it go."

And you do when he gives you the word, his hand is all wet and sticky because of you.

"Joel—" You feel the bed a little wet too. You can't stop heavily breathing. He rubs your head and kiss your forehead.

You were a little embarrassed, never shown yourself like this to anyone. And maybe—just maybe, he could feel your embarrassment because he cupped your cheek.

“You did it amazing, angel.”

You licked your lips and trailed him, searching for something in his eyes, and it wasn’t hard to find. His gaze was all dark, it took you seconds to look down to his crotch, seeing him all bricked up.

“It’s my turn now.”

He chuckled and you stood up, walking to his side of the bed, kneeling in front of him. Just as he said, he would get you on your knees.

He was amused watching the scene, you were between his thighs, eager to touch him and waiting for his orders.

You rested your head on his inner thigh, looking up to him. His hand cupped your cheek.

“You don’t have to.” He said, since you just had an orgasm, maybe you need more time.

You frowned. “You don’t want to?”

“I do, but—“

“I want it too, you promised, Joel.”

His grin grew wider and he held his cock, stroking it a little. You could see a drop of precum leaking from the tip, his thumb swirling around it, it sent tingles to your core.

“Go ahead, touch me.”

You bit your lip and just as last night, your first instinct was to touch his tip, and still had the same effect on him, but this time, he didn’t stop you.

Your finger trailed his length, his cock twitching at your touch. You’ve never seen anything like this, it was… huge, everything about it. His balls even. You fisted him, doing what you’ve seen in the videos, your hand pumping him.

He hissed, you were being too harsh all at once, he was sensitive. Your skin smooth and soft against his, it was too much. You were too much, without even trying.

You leaned your head, eager to taste him. But you raised your gaze first, as if asking him if it was okay, which he responded with his hand guiding you to his dick. Fingers digging on your scalp.

Your lips brushed his tip and you could feel how warm he was before wrapping your lips around him. He grunted, he ain’t lasting, not with you being like this.

You swirled your tongue on his tip, the white fluid tastes… salty, but not bad. You like it. You decided to go further and bury yourself on his cock.

It was too much, it made you gag. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You nodded and this time you did it slower, trying to figure out how far can you get. Then you started to go in and out on him, with his help. He was guiding your head.

His cock twitches on your mouth, you can feel his pubes beneath your chin.

Your palm lies on his belly and pull his hairs. "Taking this cock so good." he groans. "That's it, you want it all, don't you?"

He has both hands on your head, pushing you deep down, but still, you can't get it all in your mouth.

"You’re too big," you mumble and as soon as you finished the sentence, he flipped you over.

You're on your back again. He's pumping himself, you're not breaking eye contact, you love hearing the slapping sounds he makes, mixed with his whimpers.

He's imagining your pretty face glazed in cum. But not today, he needs to fuck you to cum.

Without any warning, he slams his cock inside you, making you whine. It feels too good to complain about him not wearing a condom, about going raw.

But you have to. “Joel,” you said in a moan. “The condom,”

“Fuck it,” he grunted. “I need you like this.”

And who were you to complain? You were too lost in the sensation. You were craving this again, the way he thrusts, the way his cock fills you every time.

You’re grasping to his arm but he held your wrist to the pillow, intertwining your hands.

Your legs were pushing him down at you. Your bodies melted against each other, becoming one.

“Fucking tight,” he groaned on your ear.

He thrusted harder, making you let go off his hands to dig your nails on his back, dragging them all over it, no matter if you leave scratches, he couldn’t care less.

At some point, he couldn’t help himself, being as tough as he would be normally. You seemed to enjoy it, by the way your moans filled the room, by the way your walls throbs.

“Such a good girl,” he said softly.

Your body stiffened, he knows the orgasm is already in your belly, you're just holding it, but you don't want this to stop. You look adorable being all aroused, being fucked.

You curl your toes. "It's okay, you don't need to hold it," he assures. "I want you to come."

You shake your head and press your lips against his, pulling him down furiously. Tasting him, exploring his mouth as you reach the orgasm.

God knows how much he held it, but your walls were choking him, the way your body was shaking beneath him, he lost it.

He didn’t even have time to pull out, he came inside you. And for a moment he didn’t even care, he would love to be the one to get you all round, carrying his child.

You didn’t seem to care either, not in the moment. It was pure pleasure, you’ve never felt anything like that—being filled, feeling something bubbling inside you.

It made you see the stars.

You sticked together for a couple of seconds, just panting. He pressed his lips against your forehead and then you looked for his lips.

He pressed your foreheads together before pulling out, a loud pop sound, then he left you empty.

"Stay still," he asked holding your knees, spreading them apart.

It was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, your pussy was leaking his cum. He's gonna get hard again to that view. But instead, he dip two fingers in your cunt, making you wince.

"I'm sorry," he said and you nodded.

He got out as much as he could, his fingers all sticky, coating in white. You were watching what he was doing, licking your lips without even noticing.

"Hungry, angel?" he asked, tone teasing.

You breathed. "I... I just—"

Before you could finish, his fingers were over your lips, and you opened your mouth like a fool, letting him make you taste his cum.

You sucked his fingers clean, hollowing your cheeks. You were too naughty for your own good.

"Good girl." His voice laced with amusement.

He wiped down the rest and then collapsed beside you on the bed, his body sinking into the mattress. You turned over, lying on your stomach, your head facing him. Silence settled between you, the only sound coming from the distant crash of the ocean waves outside.

Your mind now was in a war, thinking about the consequences of what just happened. You thought about protection, about the risks... but the thought didn’t last long. It drifted away as easily as it came. You were here, with him, and that was all that mattered.

You closed your eyes for a moment before murmuring, “You’re gonna have to put me on birth control.”

He laughed, low and rough, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Oh, so you’re already planning on sneakin’ into my room again?”

You bit your lip, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe... if you’re lucky.”

His eyes darkened, his fingers brushing along your spine, teasingly slow. “Angel, luck’s got nothin’ to do with it. You’ll be back.”

You laughed, soft and warm, letting the sound melt between you two. Then, you leaned in to press your lips against his cheek, taking him by surprise. He looked at you, eyes softening as he cupped your face.

"When we get back home?" your eyes lighted up. "How are we gonna do? I was thinking maybe you could—I don't know, maybe teach me how to drive?"

He chuckled. "Is that your plan to keep seeing me?"

You shrugged. "Dad promised he would teach me but he never did, so maybe his friend can take his place."

He laughed, amused, you're adorable sometimes. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You shrugged, a playful grin on your lips. “I don’t know... enjoy me?”

His laugh was deep, sending a flutter through your chest. "Okay, we'll see about that."

"And the birth control."

He grinned, his hand slipping on your stomach, his fingers warm against your skin. “I wouldn’t mind gettin’ you all round for me,” he teased, his voice low as he pressed a light kiss to your cheek.

Your face went hot, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You grabbed his hand, holding it against your belly as you looked up at him, a playful glint in your eyes. “Yeah? I bet you’d like that, huh?”

He chuckled, his nose brushing yours. "Maybe."

You closed your eyes, a small, satisfied smile still lingering as you relaxed beside him, of course you were joking, you knew your dad would kill him if that happens, Joel would get you on birth control. The sound of the waves outside lulled you, and before you knew it, sleep pulled you under.

Tangled in his sheets, you looked like an angel, even with your back bare and hair sprawled across the pillow. He watched you for a moment, shaking his head. You looked so innocent, but an hour ago, you were anything but that.

—

The next morning, you sat at breakfast, the sun warming your face. You were sipping your juice when your dad looked at you curiously. “So, did you end up going to the bar last night?”

You kept your expression neutral, shrugging casually. “Nope, didn’t go.”

He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “You know, you need to loosen up a little. Quit bein’ so shy all the time.”

You nearly choked on your juice. You glanced at Joel, who was fighting back a grin, his eyes filled with amusement. If only your dad knew you still have a part of his friend bubbling inside you. If only your dad knew his daughter was fucking the man sitting right next to him.

Your face went hot, and you pulled your knees up onto the chair, hugging them to hide your smile. You managed to mumble, “I’ll, uh... work on that,” trying not to burst into laughter.

Your dad’s eyes dropped to your legs, his brows knitting together. “Jesus, kid, look at your knees. That ocean’s been rough on you, huh? Must’ve taken quite a beating.” He shook his head, his tone teasing. “You gotta be more careful.”

You bit your lip, your eyes sliding to Joel, who was pretending to be very focused on his coffee. Careful... right. You swallowed a laugh, heat pooling low as you remembered just how you got those bruises. If only your dad knew how much you’d enjoyed getting them.

[ikkyfics]

BUNNY

Sirius Black x bunny!animagus!f!reader

Summary: in which Sirius loves to tease his bunny girl whenever he can

Warnings: suggestive, no use of y/n, est relationship

A/N: i thought the way it looked was strange, so i changed the appearance of the post.

Masterlist

Sirius Black had the infuriating habit of teasing you whenever you were in your animagus forms. Transformed into a tiny bunny, you were a stark contrast to the large, imposing dog he became. Whenever you found yourselves alone on the grounds of Hogwarts or tucked away in some hidden corner, Sirius just couldn’t resist. With a speed and precision that made you roll your eyes, he would gently grab you by the scruff of the neck with his teeth, as if you were a toy. Then came his signature look — that mischievous, satisfied glint, almost daring you to react. But the truth was, even when you protested, both of you knew your racing heart wasn’t out of fear.

Now, back in the castle, you were alone in a narrow corridor near the west tower. The earlier conversation — full of laughter, teasing, and that unmistakable intense energy — had evolved into what could only be described as a typical scene between the two of you.

“You really should stop doing that, Sirius,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “One day your teeth are going to tear my neck. I’m a bunny, remember? Fragile skin and all.”

He, of course, gave you that crooked smile that made your stomach twist. His black, unruly hair fell over his bright gray eyes, and his relaxed posture only added to his dangerously charming aura.

“Oh, but you didn’t seem so worried last time,” he teased, taking a step closer. His eyes danced with mischief, but there was a tenderness there — something he reserved only for you.

“I’m serious, Black. Shameless dog,” you insisted, but your whining tone betrayed you.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, his smile widening. “Shameless, huh? Let’s see about that.”

Before you could react, he took another step, pinning you against the cold stone wall. The weight of his breath seemed to echo in the empty corridor, mingling with the silence that only heightened the tension between you. Sirius was too close, the heat of his body burning through the nonexistent space. His eyes, always so intense, now gleamed with something darker — possession, desire, and that blatant adoration he never hid from you.

The tip of his nose brushed against your neck, trailing slowly, as if he were sniffing out every erratic beat of your heart.

You barely had time to respond before he closed his teeth around the soft curve between your shoulder and neck, biting for real this time. Not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to be felt — enough to draw out a small gasp you couldn’t hold back. The pain was sharp, intense, and, somehow, almost too good. He held on for a few seconds, as if he wanted to mark you, imprint some part of himself onto your skin, your heart.

When he let go, the heat of the bite lingered, throbbing gently. Sirius pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, and the smile he gave was pure challenge and satisfaction, as if he knew exactly what he had just stirred in you.

“That hurt,” you whispered, though your voice was rougher than you intended.

“Did it?” he asked, his tone dangerously soft — both an invitation and a tease. He tilted his head, and before you could answer, his lips were back at the spot where his teeth had been moments before. Only this time, he used them to soothe the skin. Slow, gentle kisses, as if he wanted to erase the mark he’d just left — or maybe make it impossible to forget.

“You know,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and almost feline, “you didn’t seem to be complaining just now.”

Heat flushed your cheeks, but it was impossible to deny the shiver that ran down your spine. His hands were now on your waist, fingers firm, holding you there as if you might run — which, of course, was never an option.

“Sirius…” You tried to sound stern, but the word came out more like a sigh.

He lifted his head just enough to look at you again, the glint in his eyes almost predatory but somehow endearing in a way that was so, so Sirius. “You complain so much,” he said, leaning in until his lips were a breath away from yours, “but deep down, I think you like it.”

[leashybebes]

fic: blue and gold (16/28)

for today's @bucktommyfluffebruary fic i swapped in alternate prompt showering together because they for sure know they're dating by now.

my fill is here and the tumblr version is below for those who prefer to read here. ps, pretty sure this chapter takes the rating to M.

"I am never doing that again," Buck says firmly.

"No?"

"You and Eddie definitely had an unfair advantage."

Tommy's clearly fighting a smirk. "How's that?"

Buck splutters. "Combat training!"

"Ohhh. I thought you were referring to basic hand-eye coordination," Tommy says. "Which, apparently you and Sal were born without."

Buck pouts. "Asshole. Plus, I have paint in places I don't even wanna know about. Somehow."

"Well, someone felt the need to restyle his jumpsuit," Tommy points out.

"Sue me for wanting to look pretty for you," Buck says.

"Are they always like this?" Sal demands from the backseat.

"Literally always," Eddie says heavily.

Buck wants to protest, defend their collective honor, but he'd honestly forgotten the two of them were even there.

"Get outta my truck," Tommy says.

Sal and Eddie do as they're told, stepping out into the parking lot where they left their cars. Buck flips them both the bird as he and Tommy drive away.

"Assholes," Tommy says fondly.

Buck murmurs his agreement and sets his hand on Tommy's thigh.

"Wanna take a shower together when we get back to your place?" Tommy offers. "Scrub off that paint?"

"Uh. Yes," Buck says firmly.

***

Paintballing is apparently not his thing, but if it leads here, maybe he could be persuaded, he thinks later as Tommy pulls him closer under the spray of hot water, kissing him eagerly. He runs his hands up the planes of Tommy's back, the slide made smooth by the water and the slick of soap suds. Buck's shower is generously sized but they're both big guys and it's a little cramped before too long. Buck's not complaining though, not by a long shot, not when he can feel Tommy hardening against his hip.

They've long since given up on vaguely romantic notions of gently washing each other's bodies in favor of getting as close as physically possible. Along with the paintball-induced bruising, Buck knows he's going to have stubble burn on the sensitive skin of his throat, a dark smudge in the shape of Tommy's mouth on his shoulder, and if he can swing it later, fingertip marks blooming on his hips. He can't wait.

"God, please," he groans, letting Tommy press him into the tiles. The shock of the cold makes him shudder, but it only heightens the delicious sensation of the heat of Tommy's body against him.

"Yeah?" Tommy kisses him again, his voice low in that way that's always left Buck weak. "What do you want, baby?"

"Anything," Buck says honestly. "Everything. Jesus, just don't stop touching me."

"I promise," Tommy tells him earnestly, and Buck feels briefly like he might cry.

It's nothing, really. A day with their friends that ends like this. It could be any day. But that's the thing. It could be any day, because this is their everyday, now.

"I love you," he gasps out. "Tommy, I love you so much."

They're making it. They're going to make it.

Buck is more sure every single day.

[ruinparadox]

Husk and Gn!Reader are playing cards, and with nothing left to bet, reader bets their virginity. But they lose again, and Husk claims his prize.

We’re all just really down bad for this grumpy drunk old man aren’t we? Like, we probably would just bet our virginity instead of outright asking him for sex, right? A Desperate Gambit Gone Right? (Husk x ViRgIn Gn!Reader)

Your eyebrow twitches as you stare down at your cards. Even with no knowledge of card games you could tell your hand was shit. Looking up you can see Husk smirking back at you, surrounded by the piles of items you had bet him. A stark contrast to your corner of the table that had nothing but a small speck of dust on it. His poker face wasn’t anywhere to be found, not that he needed it. He clearly had no trouble robbing you of anything and everything you had on you. 

“Well?” He asked, smugly raising a brow at you.

You groaned and threw down your cards. Husk saw that you had a straight. He scoffed and laid down his own cards.

“How the hell do you have a royal flush?!” Your shocked yell reverberates throughout the lobby. “Are you cheating? I bet you’re cheating! You definitely have a history of it!”

“Come on, don’t be a sore loser, kid. You drew the cards and that’s that. And something tells me you don’t got anything else to bet so we’ll call it here.” He begins gathering up the cards, but you stop him, grabbing his arm.

“I’ve still got one thing you don’t have!” Your eyebrow was twitching, your heart beating in your chest. What were you doing? Just cut your losses and leave before it gets even worse.

Husk eyed you with a small amount of intrigue twinkling in those beautiful eyes of his. “And what could you possibly have that could earn all your stuff ba–”

“My virginity!!” You unexpectedly yell at him. A blush darkens your cheeks while you and Husk stare at each other. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear a gay ass Italian laughing his ass off.

Husk blinked and chuckled. “Are you sure you wanna bet that, kid?” His baritone voice rumbles at you, your face heating up even more. Almost immediately you regretted what you had done, but there was no turning back now. You gave Husk a nod and he almost seemed impressed, his eyes widening just the slightest bit.

Sitting back down, you watched as Husk dealt the cards, weighing your decision in your mind. It's hard to decide if you were either brave or stupid for betting such a thing, but you were an adult and you had to own your decisions. You put yourself in this mess, you can get yourself out of it.

Once the cards had been placed, you and Husk played one final game. Several minutes later, Husk is loading your things into a large box while you’re sulking into your arms on the table. 20 entire games and you didn’t even win once. Each clatter of your things in the box felt like a personal insult specially made for you. You sighed, annoyance and disappointment written plain across your features.

Finished packing his prizes away, Husk walked up to you. “So? You ready?” His smile felt so awful to look at right now, but your annoyance gave way to resignation when your loss finally began to settle itself on you.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” You stood up and began walking back to your room. Normally you’d be up and down ecstatic to get the chance to be with your secret crush, but right now you can’t bring yourself to be happy in the slightest. You should never have played against him, even if he was complaining about how he had no one to play with.

When you’re in your room, Husk sets aside the box and closes the door behind him. His smile is gone watching you in your current state. He walks up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You okay?” His voice has barely changed, but you can hear the concern flowing through his words. Despite how touching it is, it does little to actually help you feel better.

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.” You move to take off your jacket, but Husk’s hand stops you.

“Hey, kid. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I know you made a bet and everythin’, but I ain’t gonna pressure you into nothin’.” He’s clearly concerned about you but you can’t help but feel a little guilty about it.

“It's not that I don’t want to. I guess I’m just a little bummed out about how the game turned out. Lost all my stuff to you and all that. Can’t believe I got so carried away.” You cross your arms and look away, opting to stare at a random corner in your room.

Husk chuckles. “Trust me, kid. You ain’t the first person to lose all their shit gambling, and you ain’t gonna be the last.” You barely respond to him and he frowns. It's then that an idea crosses his mind. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you lost on purpose.”

You whip your head to look at him, an almost offended expression on your face while he smirks at you. “What?” Your tone almost sounds angry.

“I mean, it was quite the performance you put on. Throwin’ each game on purpose to make yourself look desperate, and when you had nothing else to bet and were at rock bottom, ya bet your virginity to have sex with me. Gotta say, I’m impressed ya came up with such a scheme.” 

You completely ignore his obvious shit eating grin, your brows furrowing and jaw dropping in an offended scoff. “I most certainly did not conspire to have sex with you no matter how much I have fantasized about such things! You’re just putting words in my mouth now!”

Husk says nothing and his smirk grows wider as he raises a brow at you. The realization of what you said comes hurling at you like a bag of bricks and you stutter, your face and ears heating up with an embarrassed burn.

“You’ve fantasized about me?” He asks in a smooth tone as he steps towards you. “I bet it's not just words you imagined me putting in your mouth now, is it?”

Your eyes widen and for every step he takes towards you, you take one step back. You try to stutter out an explanation for what you said, that he obviously misheard you and was twisting what you said, but you’re interrupted when something bumps into the back of your knees and you fall on your bed. The culprit was the edge of the bed’s mattress. You can’t even manage a glare before Husk is right there on top of you, one hand by your head. 

“So? Do we wanna keep going?” Husk asked, his pupils round and gazing at you.

You give him a shaky nod. “Y-yeah.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs to close the distance between you two. Capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, you melted and any hesitancy in your chest fluttered away, like a butterfly taking flight.

You eagerly kissed him back, heart pounding in your chest. So many nights of being horny for this man in increasingly unlikely scenarios, and here he was about to make at least one of those come true.

He pulled away and kissed across your jawline, his lips leaving a lingering warmth all the way down to the base of your neck. He hovers over you for a few seconds, his breath gently flowing against your fur before he helps you sit up. Your brief confusion is then dispelled when his pants are unbuttoned and almost fall to the floor, the suspenders hanging onto Husk’s elbows for dear life.

Of course, you’re far more focused on the length swinging between his legs as it slowly stands tall and proud, nearly booping you on the nose. It's decorated in barbs and almost as thick as your arm.

You learn forward and press your lips against his head, earning a small shuddering sigh from him. Growing a bit bolder, you wrap your mouth around him and proceed to blush when he puts a hand on your head, gently guiding your mouth up and down his length. He groans in sync with your own moan, happily enjoying his heat in your mouth. The barbs occasionally poke and prod against your tongue, but luckily don’t draw blood.

Husk picks up his pace a bit, just a few thrusts away from full on face fucking you. Whether it's because he wants to save himself for as long as possible, or is simply being careful about his barbs is anyone’s guess. 

His gruff voice comes out in huffs, clearly putting in effort to resist just putting your throat down on his cock. If you really were a virgin, you were doing a damn good job sucking him off. You moan around him, air puffing out of your nose and onto his fur. You grunted and whined a bit when he was starting to shove a bit deeper and his ears perked up. He cursed under his breath and gently pulled himself away from you. 

You let out a small gasp for air, clearing your throat to swallow the pre in your maw without a second thought. Until the second thought came and your fur bushed up, blushing as Husk let out an amused chuckle at your unintentional reflex.

Gently, he guided you to lie down on your bed, pulling away your clothes and discarding his pants. You felt so exposed under him, almost instinctively using your legs to cover your nether regions. Of course, that didn’t last long when you trembled, feeling Husk’s claws softly spreading your thighs.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Not that it matters because you immediately throw your head back against your pillow when his mouth comes into contact with your entrance. You gasp and breathe heavily, experiencing a warm and wet sensation for the first time. Your toes are curling and uncurling with every flick of his tongue against you, no doubt drenching your entrance in his saliva in place of lube. As much as you wanted to tell him about the bottle in your drawer, not doing so felt a bit hotter for some reason.

Once he was satisfied you were properly prepared for him, he lifted your legs up by your head, lining himself with you. He looks at you for permission and you can’t help but say yes, calling his name alongside the confirmation. That stirs something within him and he’s back to making out with you, this time near instantly drawing his tongue around yours, your muzzles wrapped around each other in a deep kiss. 

With a single thrust, he’s nearly hilted completely inside of you. Your body is wracked with stimulation, causing you to clutch onto him for dear life, your arms and legs wrapped around his body. How you didn’t immediately orgasm is anyone’s guess, but that means you have to have some stamina, right?

After a few minutes, you’re finally stretched out enough for him and he begins pistoning himself in and out of you, reshaping your canals to perfectly fit his cock. His barbs are dragging along your walls, almost torturing you with how good they feel against whatever prostate he might have been hitting. 

It wasn’t long before the twisting feeling in your stomach was growing bigger and bigger, so big it was overwhelming you. You knew this feeling, you were getting close to the edge. Breaking the kiss, you begged for Husk to cum inside you, all sense of shame completely lost in the desperation to chase your impending orgasm. 

Husk growls in your ear, abruptly biting down on your shoulder as he lands one final thrust into you, a warm feeling invading your insides and his barbs flaring to keep him inside you. Once his balls are finally spent, he flips you around so you’re laying on top of him, your head resting on his chest. He’s almost exhausted, still panting from the effort and letting out a small gasp from the slightest of movements you make. He also checks your shoulder and is glad that he fortunately only left small bite marks and didn’t puncture your skin.

“So? Was it everything you’d thought it’d be?” He asks you, petting your head, the tips of his claws lingering behind your ears in a teasing manner.

“Yeah. I would have preferred not to lose all my stuff for it, but thank you.” You joke in a self deprecating manner.

“You know, I wasn’t actually gonna keep all your stuff, right?”

You freeze, your ears perking up at him. “What?” You ask, borderline growling.

“Yeah, I just wanted to see how far you’d go. I didn’t expect ya to bet your virginity of all things.” He chuckles, not even remotely phased by the semi-glare you’re giving him.

“You absolute jerk!” You say in a half angry tone, causing him to let out a belly laugh. You’re obviously pouty for the rest of the night, not exactly able to leave with him stuck inside you. Still, at least you didn’t lose everything just to get laid, right?

[rafasbiscuits]

global warming??? more like global boiling😍

[undefeatablesin]

I was consumed by the need to see P in that incredible mask from Lisrim's original music video lmao 💫

[mathispunk]

accidental matchmaking

unblurred version to feed my people

[butwhatifidothis]

It really is strange how Edelstans simultaneously dig hard into people that don't agree with their specific interpretation of 3H to the point of being happy they manage to drive those people away... and be so upset and baffled that people become generally disinterested/actively hostile towards 3H content.

If folks get repeatedly driven out of a fandom, and that group of people repeatedly calls anyone who disagrees with their specific interpretation of 3H stupid/illiterate/"acting in bad faith"/sexist/racist/homophobic/etc., and it is repeatedly done by a group of people who insist that 3H's fandom problem is a "both sides" thing, with all of this being dragged into spaces that have nothing to do with 3H, well... obviously people are then going to start to dislike interacting with either 3H in general or its fandom in particular?

Edelstans are the ones spreading the idea that 3H's fandom in totality is shit. They keep trying to make their hands look cleaner than they are by claiming that everyone else's hands are just dirty as/even dirtier than theirs. Of course people who are unaware of everything are going to then assume that everyone's hands are dirty, thus making people not exactly want to shake hands with anyone.

Like, really now. What did they think was going to happen when they directly go after fanartists/fanfic writers who create/say things that go against the Approved Edelstan Status Quo, to the point that a non-zero amount of these creators just up and leave social media entirely? Or after they nitpick every single Disapproved Post and then lie about the post's OP? Or after it becomes a consistent pattern that people who even remotely disagree with Edelstans' opinions are always, without fail, buried with insulting and harassing anons? Or after they're shown time and time again to defend their worst actors with "well their/our victims deserved it because they said a 3H opinion we didn't agree with"? Or when they say that everyone does this shit in 3H's fandom except for them (which is either not believed because it's demonstrably untrue or is actually believed and now those people think the overwhelming majority of 3H's fandom is filled with shit)? Or when they drag 3H discourse into literally actually everything no matter how unrelated?

That with less fandom creators within the fandom space they'd get more content? That harassing and insulting people and accusing them of being this-and-that bigot is going to magically "correct" their minds into seeing The One Truth about 3H? That people are going to just look over all the shit they did just because they allocate the blame of their action on all of 3H's fandom? That people would like 3H more if they constantly remind people of the inarguable worst thing to come from 3H? That this would help 3H's general perception?

Fuckin' no, of course that's just going to make everyone fuck off from 3H. And would you look at that, a shit ton of people have fucked off from 3H since everything has been swept under a "well it'sth a bolth thides ithue tho what can ya do?" rug. And it's been swept under that rug by pretty much the only people who are pulling this shit, who then get shocked - utterly gobsmacked! - that that made them look bad too. That crying "both sides!" included themselves too and not just the people they've been harassing. That saying that the entire fandom is bad everywhere made the entire fandom look bad everywhere.

If Edelstans are really so upset that no one talks about 3H positively anymore, then maybe they should stop being the reason no one likes 3H anymore. Just a thought

[tariah23]

Last night, my boss called me out of the blue (he’s never done that before. It was like, almost 9pm and my sister and I were out eating at a restaurant in Chinatown. Well, we’d just left tbh.) asking if I was “coming in today?” And if “I need my hours,” like man, what? And tried to joke about the times where I’d text him to ask if I should still come in because the weather is bad and I can’t work the pool if it’s raining. They literally know this. I’ve been sent home because of the rain at least 5 times now, bro, stop playing with me. He said some shit like “you aren’t just doing that as an excuse to call off, right hahah?” And I just feel like that since they want to fire me, he’s trying to come up with an excuse to do so. He tried to take a jab at me asking by about the weather as an excuse to go into possibly “calling off too much,” even though I’ve never missed a day of work since starting this location. The only days I’ve missed are the days where they’d send me home because of the rain and that one weekend because I was gone for vacation, so they can’t use my attendance at all. I’m late sometimes (only because I’m tired of this place, man. I’m so unmotivated but I need the money orz. The good thing is that the leasing agents and those in higher positions aren’t there on the weekends. Only maintenance and the concierges and they don’t give a shit. I doubt they’d tell on me about being late since most of the concierges hate it there, too. They could gaf.) but my boss sounded like he was trying to see if I was going to coming in today (why wouldn’t I? I’ve been working the weekend for weeks now, what are you talking about 🗿…) so that he could try to have someone new work the pool to give them a chance to get used to it so that they could push me out/ fire me. Jokes on them, I might just call up my main boss on Monday and tell her that I’d like a new assignment because the work place has become hostile and it is now, making me feel uncomfortable.)

[tomandgeriatric]

I am hot and bothered but not in a fun way 😤

[littlelamy]

clingy with rafe

rafe would never call himself clingy. clingy was for guys who didn’t have their shit together or needed constant reassurance. but with you, it wasn’t insecurity—it was something else entirely.

he wasn’t sure when it started, but the second you walked into a room, it was like his body moved on its own. at toppers’ parties, his hand found yours before you even said hi to anyone. you were his grounding force in the chaos, and he wasn’t about to let you slip away.

“stick with me,” he muttered, fingers laced tightly with yours. his voice was low, the kind of tone that was more of a command than a suggestion. you weren’t complaining—his hand was warm and steady, making you feel more at ease in the wild, drunken crowd.

“i thought this was supposed to be a chill thing,” you teased, trying to match his long strides as he led you through the sea of bodies. your tone was light, but you couldn’t help smirking at the way he scanned the room like a hawk. he always had that protective edge, though he’d never admit it outright.

“yeah, well, topper’s definition of ‘chill’ is breaking every piece of furniture in the house,” rafe said, rolling his eyes. his thumb brushed over the back of your hand like it was second nature. “where the fuck is topp, anyway?”

you shrugged, barely holding back a laugh as you glanced around the room. “you’re asking me? i thought you were keeping track of him.” his jaw ticked slightly, but his focus never wavered from you for long.

when someone brushed past you a little too closely, rafe’s grip on your hand tightened. his shoulders tensed, and he pulled you into his side without missing a beat. “you good, princess?” he asked, his voice dropping in that way that made your stomach flutter.

“i’m fine, rafe,” you said, rolling your eyes but feeling secretly pleased at how much he cared. it wasn’t like the guy bumped into you on purpose, but rafe wasn’t about to let it slide. “you’ve asked me that, like, five times tonight.”

“yeah, well, just making sure,” he shot back, his lips twitching into a grin that didn’t quite mask his protective streak. he glanced down at you, eyes scanning your face as if checking for any hint of discomfort. “can’t have anyone messing with my girl, right?”

later, when the two of you found an empty spot on the couch, rafe was already pulling you down next to him. “sit,” he ordered, his voice taking on that familiar commanding edge.

you raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, sinking into his lap with a sigh. before you could even get comfortable, his hands were sliding over your legs, his fingers brushing gently over your skin.

“rafe,” you said, leaning back against him as his hands roamed, moving up to your thighs and rubbing slow circles over the soft fabric of your dress.

“relax, princess,” he murmured in your ear, his voice low and almost playful as he traced his fingertips along your legs. “you’re too tense.”

you shot him a look, feeling the heat of his hands on your skin, but despite your attempt to act nonchalant, you couldn’t stop the warmth flooding your chest. “you’re impossible,” you muttered, but didn’t move away.

“nah,” he whispered with a smirk, fingers continuing their teasing path along your legs. “i just know how to get you to relax.”

later, when you nudged him and told him you needed to use the bathroom, his reaction was immediate. “cool, i’ll come with you,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. you stopped mid-step, looking at him like he’d grown another head.

“rafe, i’m not gonna get lost. it’s the bathroom,” you said, already exasperated. his expression didn’t budge, that familiar mix of confidence and stubbornness plastered across his face. “you don’t need to come with me.”

“it’s not about you getting lost, princess,” he said, smirking in a way that made your pulse quicken. the nickname rolled off his tongue effortlessly, like he’d been calling you that forever. “just making sure no one tries anything while you’re gone.”

“so, what? you’re gonna stand outside the door like a security guard?” you asked, crossing your arms in challenge. his grin widened, the mischievous glint in his eyes telling you he had other plans. “you’re unbelievable, rafe.”

“not standing outside, babe,” he said with a wink, already following you toward the tiny bathroom. you gaped at him, half-annoyed and half-amused, as he casually shut the door behind you. “i’m coming in with you.”

“rafe!” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper as you gestured around the cramped space. his nonchalant demeanor made it even more infuriating, like this was the most logical thing he could’ve done. “you can’t just—this is weird!”

“what’s weird about it?” he asked, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. his gaze was steady, like he genuinely couldn’t understand your objection. “not like i haven’t seen you before, princess.”

your cheeks flushed at his comment, and you smacked his arm lightly in protest. “rafe cameron, you’re impossible,” you muttered, turning toward the toilet with a defeated sigh. “at least turn around or something.”

“fine, fine,” he said, laughing as he spun to face the door, his shoulders shaking slightly. his smugness was practically radiating off him, and you knew he was enjoying every second of this. “just say the word if you need me, babe.”

when you were done and washing your hands, he turned back around without missing a beat. his eyes softened as they landed on you, his usual teasing replaced with something gentler. “you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“i’m fine, rafe,” you said, shaking your head with a small smile. his concern, as ridiculous as it was sometimes, always managed to make your heart ache in the best way. “but you’re never living this down.”

“don’t care,” he said, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. his lips brushed against your temple, his hold on you firm and steady. “you’re stuck with me, princess.”

and honestly? you didn’t mind one bit.

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[oceantornadoo]

when you first start talking to simon riley, you want to check yourself into an insane asylum.

you like to think you’re cool, you’re chill, you’re nonchalant. but he takes eight hours to text back, sending you a “come over.” text at 7pm like he hadn’t just ignored you the whole day. you complain to your friends, of course, which is a terrible move when they tell you to drop him and if he wanted to, he would! and you think he does (want to), he’s just so insanely nonchalant about it. so the next time he comes over, chinese takeout in hand after not texting you back since 8am, you go a little crazy…

you open the door for him, stepping back awkwardly when he tries to peck your forehead. he practically shrugs it off, toeing off his boots before setting the food down on your table. “got tha’ dish ya like.” you nod, forgetting his back is to you. simon unpacks the boxes with precision from the bag, not stopping until it’s all laid out on the table. you’ve been quiet for a while, unusual since you’re the talker of the bunch, and that creeping feeling that’s been sliding up his skin finally sets its hooks in him. he turns around curiously, brows furrowing at the sight of you still standing by the door, biting your lip with a timid look and wet eyes. “love?”

you shake your head with a watery smile. “can we talk?” simon follows you as you walk to your couch, feeling like he’s been dropped into an op with no details. he doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that you’re hurting and he seems to be the cause of it. “i just…don’t get it. how you’re acting so normal.” you’re twisting your hands together. “somethin’ happen, love? got me confused.” you give him that small, weak smile again and it’s like you’ve stabbed him in the heart. “you- you barely talk to me all day and then you just come over here like it’s nothing. it’s just so hot and cold and i’m wrecking myself over it when it’s so clear you don’t care. i’m just so confused, si.”

simon runs through his memories. he texted you good morning, you texted it back, then he went about his duties for the day until he was finally free to ask about dinner. hadn’t even picked up his phone in the meantime, security risks or just plain busyness being the cause. “‘ve been busy, sweetheart. ‘s why i asked t’ come over when i was done.” you shake your head, biting your lip. “it’s the modern day, simon. everyone’s on their phones. i don’t think you’re as into this as me, and that’s fine, but i just want to know!”

now simon’s the one shaking his head, pulling out his phone. he might not be tech savvy but he does know this move from johnny, the fucker constantly complaining about his screen time. he pulls up the screen time tracker and turns it to you. “not everyone.” you’re a bit shocked to be honest. his screen time is ten minutes for the entire day. a few in the morning when he texted you and nothing until nighttime, when he texted you again. you’ve never seen anything like it.

“‘m not a big texter an’ we don’t use personal phones for work, so it’s jus’ a brick i leave at home or lug around. ‘s nothin’ on you. been thinkin’ about you all day, to be honest.” your mouth is open, honestly. any other man would have never shown you their minute-by-minute screen time, would have begged off the “busy” excuse while having been on social media for four hours. simon, by all standards, is genuinely different.

“so, you do like me?” he nods stiffly, gloved hands reaching for you. you slide into his lap easily, tucking your face into his neck to hide your heated cheeks. you’d even shed a few tears over this, how embarrassing. “‘course i like you, sweetheart. an’ im sorry if it didn’t feel like it. let’s have it out, yeah?” you nod into his skin and he takes a deep breath, pulling you closer to his heart.

from that day on, you compromise with phone calls. when he’s got a few minutes and you’ve hit a lull at work, he’ll call you. it’s better than any text in the world - hearing his gruff voice asking questions about your messy coworkers or dinner plans. not so nonchalant as you thought.

-

i wish this was from personal experience but unfortunately for me, it’s closer to the men not responding for days but having a screen time of six hours.