#i am feeling so normal about these two right now :)

[mlyscha]

SIDEWALK THEORY ✦ P.SUNGHOON

𝓼ynopsis. in which the sidewalk theory is proven to be true by your boyfriend, making your heart flutter. 𝓹airing. p.sunghoon x female!reader 𝓰enre. tooth rotting fluff. 𝔀arnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language, reader is kind of annoying and amelie is out of creativity tbh ( ;´ - `;). 𝔀𝓬. 93O. 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: remember when i was thanking you guys for the 60+ followers... we are close to hit 100, WHAT?! thank you guys <3 ya'll are truly amazing (,,>﹏<,,) i also wanted to mention that i mainly use british english but i wrote pavement as sidewalk because i like this word better, you can judge me...

sunghoon loves you from the bottom of his heart. he is in fact so deep in love that he recently begun to create possible scenarios that could include you and him in the future ━ such as marriage.

okay, let's just not go that far. i might emphasise that, if you are expecting him to show affection in front of others or constantly do so in a daily basis, your fate is to be frustrated. the thing is that he just doesn't feel like doing it to prove his love for you. still, it's not like he has no necessity to kiss you, or hug you and all. he simply think different than most of people.

one of the things sunghoon figured out since he begun to fall in love with you and date you is that: protecting means loving, safety means forever. with that being said, he mainly prioritise protecting you more than everything; because, safety means forever, right? and he wants you to be his forever because he loves you ━ and loving means protecting.

also, since he was a little boy his mum taught him how to be a gentleman, and you can confirm your mother-in-law did a great job at it. sunghoon is just so polite, respectful, always respecting your boundaries ━ but still acting like that characteristic playfulness of a young boy when he feels acting like it.

talking about his mum's teaching, i might mention one thing that he learned, said his mum back then: "if someone you love is in this part of the sidewalk" she reefers to the part closer to the street. "and you want to keep them safe, make sure to switch places with them ━ just like i am doing with you." little sunghoon checks which part of the pavement he was walking on. "see? you're away from the danger of the streets, you know why?" "because you love me...?" "right! good boy!" ━ sunghoon from the future might not even remember this little lesson his mum taught him a long ago, but it glued to his mind until it became a normal thing to do.

now, dating this amazing man for almost two years, the sidewalk theory became your roman empire. you heard about this theory on tiktok, and from that point, you never felt the same way. i mean, since both of you were just friends he always did that, however, it was never that deep, you know? and since the beginning of your relationship you've never really figured this thing out.

so, nowadays, going out with your boyfriend is something else. sometimes you just want to feel that giddiness one more time, asking for a midnight walk to the convenience store with him, just to see him unconsciously touching your shoulders and gently switching places with you ━ and eat an ice cream. that scenario actually became kind of usual, but never failing to make you feel the same special way.

"hoon...?" you called his name hesitantly, not wanting to ruin his sleepy state since it was late. "baby?"

"mhm..." he groaned.

"can i ask you one thing?"

"mhm,"

"why do you do that?"

"mhm?"

"that, sunghoon, you know what i'm talking about!" you whispered-yelled, looking up to check on him, being met with his closed eyes and frowned brows.

"mhm-hm..." he denied.

"come on... you know? the sidewalk thing?"

"what sidewalk thing?" he spoke with a groggy voice.

"you know, when you switch sides with me..."

"i do it?"

"yeah!" you saw his right eye peaking at you, then closing again.

"mhm," sunghoon took a deep breath before asking: "what about it?"

"why do you do that?"

"i don't know," he shrugged. "may i ask why...?"

"because i like it..." you replied, admitting.

"why?"

"is cute,"

"mhm..." a cheeky grin was held in by him.

"why are you trying to hold that smile, mr. sidewalk?"

"hey!" his cute giggle echoed and that big grin found its way to escape. "don't call me that..."

"huh? want me to call you what then?" you teased, feeling his hold onto your waist gently tighten and his head snuggle onto the crook of your neck. "oh... someone's feeling a little clingy today, mhm?" his touch immediately went away. "noooo~ come back, mr. clingy man!"

"okay, stop this, don't call me those names,"

"i asked you which name would you want me to call you, mr. grumpy man..."

"call me baby, okay?! call me darling, sweetie even cupcake, i don't care," your boyfriend spoke impatiently. "now let me sleep, woman."

"eh? woman?"

"baby... baby, let your boyfriend rest, 'kay?"

"okay, you can sleep..." you squinted your eyes. "call me woman one more time and you'll be called mr. dumped man!"

bonus scene! ★

"[...] and i told her! but then she was like: "i don't know about any of that bullshit", and i was like-"

"yeah, right," casually, sunghoon places his hands on both of your shoulders and move you to the other side of the sidewalk. "...and then?" noticing you subtle silence, he continued, wanting to know about what was going on with your friend.

"um... and i was like..."

"you were like...?"

"you did it again!"

"you told her that?"

"no! you did this again," you looked down at the pavement.

"paid attention? what?" poor sunghoon, got confused about what you meant.

"the sidewalk thing!" you were trying to make him figure out what you were talking about a few days ago.

"oh? did i?" he checked himself, slowly figuring it out.

"yes, you did," you nodded while smiling.

holding a big smile, he scrunched his nose and cleaning his throat. "anyway, tell me what you really told her then, baby."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[lemoniiiiiii]

nighttime reading

(dad!peter maximoff x fem!reader) in where your husband's on night duty and runs into a bit of trouble trying to prep a bottle...

content: fluff (idk that's really it), daughter's name is luna b/c uhm canon ig!, might ooc or like lack of character idk I'm not great a writing peter aha..

a/n: started this WIP a while ago but the evanverse discord gave me the inspo to finish it so this is for them LOL

--

3 AM. once again the baby monitor fires up, the shrieking wails of your newborn waking you. you begin to instinctively rise from your laying position with a groan. you get about halfway up before your husband peter wraps a toned arm around you, pulling you back in.

"nggh... babe..." you protest his affections with irritated whines, knowing you need to be tending to your daughter right now not cuddling (as much as you wanted to).

peter lets out a low hum and peppers your face with soft kisses. you try to fight the impending slumber but your eyes begin to flutter through his attempts to coax you back to sleep.

"i've got'er..." he mumbles into your hair, giving you one last squeeze before getting out of bed himself and trudging across the way to the nursery.

"alright, kiddo work with me tonight we've gotta let your mama get some rest..." peter turns the soft light lamp on, walking over to the crib he so awesomely built without reading the instructions (by far one of his greatest achievements... aside from creating his daughter of course).

he leans over to see the 2 month old's tiny and delicate body tense as she cries, hands gripped in small tight fists.

with a gentle touch, he lifts luna from the crib, cradling her securely in his arms. he rocks her softly, bouncing slightly on his feet.

for a moment, the cries soften, and peter breathes a quiet sigh of relief. but then she lets out another sharp wail, a hungry, insistent cry that lets him know she’s not going to be easily soothed tonight.

peter heads downstairs with her, still adjusting to this slower way of moving. normally, he’d zip around the house at inhuman speed, but with a newborn, that’s a no-go. for the past couple months, he’s been learning to slow down for her—taking the stairs, walking instead of zooming. he’d even forced himself to learn to drive. slowing down had sucked, but for his two favorite girls he’d do anything.

in the kitchen, he opens the fridge and sighs when he realizes the last bottle is gone. all that’s left is frozen breast milk, and luna’s cries tell him that waiting for it to defrost isn’t an option. no way is he waking you up either. it’ll have to be formula.

peter opens a cabinet and grabs the formula container, peering at the label and trying to remember the steps you’d shown him. he squints at the tiny font, racking his brain. “uh… powder or water first? shit, i can’t remember…you don’t happen to remember, do you?”

he chuckles and glances down at luna his expressioin shifting when he sees her little face red and frustrated. a pang of guilt hits peter. he should’ve paid more attention when you taught him. “sorry, baby girl. i know. don’t worry, i’ll figure it out.”

he squints at the label again, bringing it close to his face. the letters on the label were pretty much illegible to his eyes, no matter how close he brought the container to them. “stupid tiny words…” he mutters. “your old man’s getting old, luna…”

peter huffs, finally accepting the inevitable, and heads to the bathroom. reaching into the bottom drawer, he pulls out a small glasses case he’s been hiding from you. using his free hand he brings the glasses up and flips them open using his mouth to slip them on. he hates how he looks in them and hates how they feel on his face, but damn... he really needed them. he stares down at the canister, finally able to read the label and prepares the bottle carefully, determined to get it right for her. no more bsing the things he couldn't read.

as he finally settles into the couch with luna nestled in his arms, feeding her the bottle he’s made, he finds himself gazing at her small face. for the first time, he can clearly see every detail—the curve of her cheeks, the faint little dimples, the perfect mix of both of you in her delicate features.

“i’m holding the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms… did you know that?” he whispers softly. luna’s innocent, unfocused eyes meet his, and she keeps suckling, making him chuckle. “ahh, i’m sure you know. your parents aren’t too bad-looking either, huh?”

“looks like i’ve been demoted from my title,” you say with a sleepy smile as you step into the kitchen. “rightfully so… she’s pretty cute.”

“she is…” peter agrees, glancing up at you with a soft smile. “but babe, you should be sleeping”

“just needed some water,” you say, moving to the sink and filling a glass.

he nods, watching you as you sip, your gaze shifting to the open formula container and his glasses, still perched on his nose. “couldn’t read the label?”

"uh- well- yeah... how did you-"

“the glasses,” you both say at the same time, sharing a laugh.

“i actually like them on you,” you say with a smirk. “honestly, it’s… kind of hot.”

peter, well aware of his bedhead, the beginnings of stubble, and his deep set eyebags, laughs. “I think you need more sleep.”

“well, maybe,” you say with a yawn. “but hey before I head back up.. I just wanted to tell you... I’m proud of you. I know you feel lost sometimes with little luna and me, but you’re doing a great job, babe. you’re a good dad.”

hearing your words, peter feels the weight of his self doubt lighten. becoming a parent scared the shit out of him, especially since he didn't really have a father figure to go off on. but hearing this from you, he feels a rush of gratitude and relief.

when you finish your drink, he takes your glass, setting it aside as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “go get some rest...”

you press a soft kiss to his lips, squeezing him in a quick hug before leaning down to gently stroke luna’s head. then you head upstairs. peter watches you go, smiling to himself, then looks down at his daughter with a chuckle.

“hey, luna,” he whispers, stroking her cheek. “you okay with your old man looking like a grandpa?”

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns @evanbabybear @melsimps

[cevansbrat0007]

https://x.com/auxgod_/status/1854935706742706397?s=46

ari’s reaction if bird tried to walk out the house with this on 👀

Untitled Sweet Renegade Series Ask & Drabble

Please enjoy the Sweet Renegades Series Drabble found after the cut. Warnings include: Mature Themes, Implied Smut, Ari Being a Possessive Menace, Brat!Reader, Manhandling, Crude Language, and Cursing. Minors DNI.

Listen, Ari considers himself to be a rather progressive man. He has two sisters that he respects and adores. And a little niece that fills him with pride. He plans to teach his nephew about the importance of respecting women - of treating them with the utmost reverence and care.

However, the moment Ari laid eyes on his sweet, stubborn little Bird, it was if something in him snapped. It came from somewhere deep. Primal. And the beast in him demanded that he stake his claim. Before her, Ari had never really considered himself to be the possessive type. He just assumed that jealousy wasn't a part of his makeup.

But now? Her smile. Her laugh. Her light. Every delicate inch of her gorgeous curvy body. All of it belongs to him. In the most primal, feral sense.

And he does not like to share.

So, while he wants to encourage Bird as she continues down the path of consistent, healthy body positivity, he's also man enough to admit that that there's no way in hell he'd let her fine ass out of the house wearing a dress like that. And here's why:

"Baby..." He rasps, caging you in as he backs you against the door. "You look fucking stunning." Two thick fingers trail their way down your body, stopping once they reach the valley between your breasts. "But I'm afraid I can't let you leave. Not while you're wearin' that."

"What's wrong with it?" Your words come out as a gasp when you feel a hand wind its way into your curls, holding you still as he continues his assault. The seconds drag on as his head dips, his mouth finding yours.

"Because, sweet Bird." Ari presses, forcing you to take his delicious weight. Making your pulse spike as he grinds his increasingly hard cock against your abdomen.

"B-because?"

"Because..." He draws out the word as he wrenches your head back so that he can whisper maddening little love bites along the curve of your jaw. "This is the kinda dress you wear when you're out with your man." You have a hard time breathing as his free hand skims lower before coming to rest on the swell of your bottom.

"Oh yeah?" You continue to goad - against your better judgement.

To be honest, you'd known what you were risking when you saw the dress hanging on the rack. You had no business playing with fire. But that's part of what made all of this so fun.

"Absolutely." Ari's normally bright blue eyes darken with arousal as he watches your chest heave. Almost as if he's imagining what it might be like to slowly peel the garment off you, piece by piece. "Because these hips and that ass - they're enough to give a man ideas."

His soft lips find their way to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver.

"And when they start wantin' to entertain those ideas," he muses, more to himself than you. "I need to be there as your man to shut 'em down."

"I see." A sharp nip of teeth has you clenching your thighs together.

"Because I am the only man who's allowed to know what it's like to bury myself between those luscious thighs." Using two fingers, he tips up your chin, wordlessly demanding that he look you in the eyes. "And only I get to know what you taste like when you cum on my tongue. Which therefore makes me the only man with exclusive rights to your tight, little pussy."

"Okay Beast." You can't help the giggle that bubbles its way out of your throat. "I think you've made your point."

"Have I, little Bird?" He growls, releasing his grip on your chin to capture your wrists, trapping them above your head. "Or do I need to remind you that I'm not the sharing type?"

The steady tick in his jaw lets you know that you and your dress have once again pushed this man to the edge. But the real question was...

Just what did you plan to do about it?

Batting your lashes up at him, you decide it's time to let the brat in you win out once and for all. Go big or go home, you know?

"Eh, it's been awhile, big guy." You purr, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. "I'm thinkin' you might need to refresh my memory."

END

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[sirsl1ttl3secretary]

I was thinking more like training me to dress sluttier wear more make up getting lip fillers etc and then start making me think about cock all the time so any time I’m alone in a room I can’t help but start rubbing my clit or playing with my nipples then as it progresses any time I’m in the house no matter if others are around I’ll be playing with myself then but you never acknowledge it making it as normal as sitting on my phone. Then as it goes further any time I’m awake all I can think about it playing with myself so I come to you and ask for help. That’s when you teach me the secret to help that feeling… the only way to stop it is to fill up my hole first with small toys like a bullet or a tiny little dildo making me get off on them for a month normalising me fucking myself in the house and car and anywhere else you want me too until I tell you that it’s stopped working or you catch me playing with myself in inappropriate public places then you buy me a new one a little longer and a little wider never admitting you got it me but leaving it on my bed to get home too this process lasts months just going up by half an inch in length and a quarter in width until I’m at your width then each month they just get longer till finally you give me a very special toy it’s s perfect copy of your cock from one of those make a dildo kits you make me use it for longer than the others so you know the effects of the silicone dildo have definitely long past and I’m so needy I’d do anything for release. That’s when you catch me wearing the dildo to school stuffed in my pussy held in place by my panties. We’re in the car almost at school when you find notice your cock becoming erect quickly. Finally… it’s time you think to yourself as you confront me my crop top shows so much underboob and cleavage it might as well not be there and my tiny mini skirt doesn’t do much to help hide what I’ve done. You pull into a nearby empty lay-by that’s just off the main road and leads down to a little parking area once we get there you tell me to open my legs which I do my puffy lips looking radiant in the early morning light. You move my panties to the side and rip out the dildo asking me what the hell I am doing. I pout and look confused before saying “filling my hole daddy” you throw it on the floor and firmly say “get out the car right now!” Without even putting my panties back in place I do as I’m told standing outside the car waiting for what will happen next when you walk round the car open the back door pulling me to the open door you say “this was a very naughty thing to do so now you will be punished. Stand with your legs straight and bend over so your body is lying flat on the seats and your ass is right up in the air. I do as I’m told the cold morning air swirling around my wet needy hole sending shivers through my body. You start to spread my legs a little wider opening my hole even further exposing me the the breeze before saying “your punishment is 5 slaps” you pull your hand back and get ready to spank me hard the tears of teasing taking over and come down hard on my left ass cheek “one” then again “two” now you swap to my right cheek “three” then you get an idea you go again on the right cheek “four” then pull my legs open lining your hand up with my clit before spanking it the hardest of all the hits “five” as soon as you make contact with my clit a moan erupts from my body it was an erotic deep begging moan “daddy I’ve been so naughty punish me again please daddy, I don’t think 5 was a big enough punishment I haven’t learnt my lesson please daddy… punish me harder” the words escape my body before my brain has even processed what’s happening making you chuckle and say “okay then baby if you insist” you spank my clit five more times each time making me wetter and wetter until you know it’s time. You undo your trousers and pull them down a little before bending over me to whisper in my ear “this is what it really means to fill your hole” as you pull on the elastic of your boxers your cock leaps out desperate to finally take what is yours

[gothcsz]

part six of the neighbors series. thank you to the anon who sent this angsty prompt for getting the gears turning in my head, hehe. these two are something else, i tell ya. the miscommunication is just so... i am pushing them together forcing them to kiss at this point lol hope you guys like it 🖤 and feel free to send me more things for this little au!

javier peña x f!reader. ~2k word count. nothing too extreme to tag, it's straight up just angst and yearning.

Being with Mateo is nice, sweet even. He calls when he says he will, makes you laugh, and remembers how you take your coffee. And you really do try with him. You take interest in his hobbies, hold his hand when you’re walking down the street, and even let him take you to bed.

The sex is fine, nothing spectacular and just barely above average. Being with him is normal and safe.

But every now and then, your mind drifts to what it would be like if it was Javier in his place. You shake those thoughts off as fast as they come. If you’re going to move on, it has to be for real, not half-heartedly.

It’s a little easier to bury those feelings now that Javier is caught up in something—or someone—of his own. 

She’s over at his place constantly, her laugh sometimes drifting through the walls late at night. It feels like they’re always whispering to each other, talking until all hours, and you hate how that little spark of jealousy sits in your chest.

You catch yourself wondering what her name is, how they met, if she gets that look from him—the one that he used to give you when he’d make you laugh. 

You pass Javier in the hallway sometimes, and when he offers a half-smile and rushed, “Hey,” you return it with something tight and brief, barely meeting his gaze.

But he’s always in his own world these days, buried in work, and if he notices you distancing yourself, he doesn’t show it. Or maybe he’s too distracted to care. Either way, it reinforces the choice you’ve made to keep things this way. 

Every time you pass his closed door, you tell yourself you’re doing the right thing. Him being absent is the push you need to keep stepping back, to keep looking at apartments a few neighborhoods over, just in case.

One day, Mateo notices you’re distracted during dinner, poking at your food more than eating it. 

“Querida,” he says, nudging your hand, “you alright?”

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “Just thinking about work.” You try to shake off the odd feelings you can’t seem to put to rest—the unease of Javier wrapped up in someone else and it working for him but not for you, leaving you more restless than before.

He’s become a background hum of missed chances and bad timing.

Mateo catches the shift in your expression and rests his hand on yours. “If it’s about your place, I don’t mind helping you look around. Maybe even do a little apartment tour spree together this weekend?”

His warmth stirs something in you, a pang of guilt for not giving him the part of you that’s still tucked away. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I’d like that.” 

Javier’s schedule continues to keep him out of the complex and you can’t remember the last time you saw him at the embassy.

Granted, you work in different departments but still, there was enough overlap for you to at least catch glimpses of him throughout the day. 

There’s a wall between you two—one he doesn’t even realize is there.

One evening, as you’re walking up to your door, you hear his low voice in the hallway, murmuring something to that beautiful brunette that you feel so strongly against because of your own insecurities. 

It strikes a nerve, seeing her leaned up against his door like that with Javier crowding her, his fingers tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ear.

They don’t even notice you and that fucking stings, then you remind yourself that you’re being ridiculous and unlock your door quickly, barely giving him a second glance when he finally turns his head to acknowledge you. You just shut your door.

Later, as you sit by your window with a glass of wine, a part of you wishes you could confront him about it—how you miss having a friend even if these feelings you’ve grown for him have tainted your friendship.

But instead, you brush it off. It’s better this way, the distance and silence. Cutting him off quietly.

You have Mateo now, and maybe in time, those feelings you’re trying to force yourself to feel for him will start to feel more real.

In the meantime, you keep Mateo close and Javier at arm’s length, praying the ache in your chest will fade into something easier to ignore.

When things with Helena spiral, Javier’s entire world dips into a darkness he struggles to fight off.

He’d been steeling himself for months, pretending that what he felt for her was just a part of the job, just another way to gather intel, to stay sharp. But things had shifted, unraveled into something he wasn’t prepared for.

She had become more than an informant; something tangible and real, someone he genuinely cared about. He should have known better than to let it get personal—mixing affection with the job, letting his heart get tangled up in a life as brutal as theirs.

It’s in the wake of this disaster that you pop into his mind again. The truth is, he’d forced you out of it completely, buried you beneath his work, his duties, his time with her.

After all, what place did someone like him, wound up in the cartel’s mess, have with someone like you? You were safe, building a life with an uppity banker, someone who could give you things Javier’s world would never allow. 

Security, stability, and something close to a normal life—things he could barely imagine anymore.

And he’d see it, too, in the way you were with Mateo. He could hear it sometimes through the walls, that light laugh of yours, the one that’d once been his to hear on a quiet afternoon or over a shared meal. Now it belonged to someone else.

Javier would watch the asshole come by, flowers in hand, gifts in his arms, looking like the kind of guy he could never be, the kind of guy you deserved.

Maybe that’s why he fell for Helena so quickly, so intensely. She was tough, resilient, unafraid of the shadows he’d cast around him. With her, he didn’t have to pretend.

They shared the same night-bound existence and he didn’t care that she was a prostitute. She understood, even when he didn’t, the danger of crossing those lines in his work, the way it weighed on him, without flinching at the blood on his hands.

But now… he’s haunted by what he should have seen coming. She’d been hurt, and every part of him feels complicit.

He couldn’t protect her, couldn’t protect himself from feeling it all in his bones, and the guilt wraps around his heart, squeezing so tight it might burst. 

The weight of it pulls him under, and he finds himself wondering how he’s going to claw his way out. His work is far from over.

He's at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon one night when he realizes just how long it's been since he’s really seen you.

The ache that realization brings feels like another knife twisting in his chest. Your bright eyes, that quirky laugh you give when he actually manages to crack you up, and the way you can turn his chaos to calm without even trying—they’ve been missing from his life for months now, and he’s feeling the loss more deeply than he wants to admit.

With sluggish, heavy steps, he staggers across his apartment until he ends up at your door. He knocks, too loudly, too long, until you swing it open, looking bleary-eyed and definitely frustrated. He’s clearly woken you up.

“Hola, cariño—”

“It’s two in the goddamn morning, Javier. ¿Qué necesitas?” 

You’ve got your arms crossed, and he blinks a few times, almost impressed with the improvement of your accent. He opens his mouth, trying to form the words, but you beat him to it, eyeing him up and down.

“Are you drunk? You reek of liquor, Peña.” Your tone is flat. “You need to go back home.”

“Te extraño,” he slurs, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I can’t be in there another second without feelin’ like I’m losing my damn mind.”

You’re sizing him up, at a war with yourself, and he lets his gaze wander even in his bleary state. You’re wearing that familiar robe with a slip dress underneath, and he has no idea if it helps or makes things worse. 

“Then you should probably call your girl,” you say, voice cool. “Or go upstairs and bother Murphy. I have to be up early.”

You go to close the door, but his large palm spreads against it, steadying himself. “Javier—”

“Please,” he says, voice softer. “Don’t do this. Not tonight.”

For a moment, you search his eyes, your own gaze conflicted, and then, almost begrudgingly, you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, “but you’re out by the time I’m up for work in the morning.”

You let him in, and he feels that distance in your voice like a physical wall between you. It’s his own fault—he knows it, hates it, but here you are, standing back to let him in anyway.

He stumbles, almost falling flat on his face, and your smaller hands catch him with a muttered curse. Like he’s a child.

You steer him to the couch with an exasperated huff, and even as you help him settle, he’s not sure if it’s the liquor making his chest tighten or the fact that you’re handling him with more care than he deserves. 

You wrestle him out of his jacket, tugging it from his broad shoulders, then go for his boots.

The grunts you make in effort, the feeling of your hands on him—even if it’s just to deal with his drunk ass—makes him ache in a way that alcohol only magnifies.

His thoughts drift to places they have no business going. He’d tried to move past the want he felt for you, burying it under other bodies, other names, other distractions. But here you are in a thin slip dress under your robe and all he can think about is how it’d feel to have you moving against him, to finally let his hands roam your curves, bring you pleasure and fuck you like he’s sure no man has. Not even your goody-two-shoes of a boyfriend.

Once he’s settled on your couch, you leave, only to return a moment later with a glass of water, setting it on the coffee table with a quiet sigh. “If you need to puke, please use my bathroom,” you say flatly, “not the new couch.”

“New couch?” he mumbles, sitting up on his elbows and frowning at it. “What was wrong with the old one?”

You just shake your head, the patience gone from your expression. “Goodnight, Javi,” you say flatly, but he stops you before you leave.

“Thank you for this and I’m sorry—”

“Just stop,” you cut him off with a deep sigh. “You’re always apologizing and I don’t want to hear it. Get some rest.” And then you’re gone, the door to your room closing softly but definitively behind you.

After that night, he tries to make things go back to normal but the distance that happened during that time seems impossible to close now.

Every attempt he makes to lessen it only meets the cool edge of your guarded smile or your quick, polite excuses to cut conversations short. The silence between you has settled too deeply now, like it’s found a home where friendship used to be.

He doesn’t know what to do and you’re still stuck in your forced delusion that Mateo is what you want.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️: @persephone-girl . @almostempty . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @samanthajonees . @dontlookatme121 . @thundermartini . @dinanabuu . @cherrysugarx . @dontlookatme121 . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[bakudekublogblog]

kacchan really is so funny for being like BUT WHAT ABOUT BAKUDEKU CANON when he finds out izuku is quirkless

[front-facing-pokemon]

[coquelicoq]

i fucking love prereading. getting documents about what's going to be discussed in a meeting and reading them and then going to the meeting and having context for all the things that are happening. if i could do this in all areas of life i would. send me a list of the words i'm going to need the definition of in order to understand what you will be talking about. give me a rundown of what topics might come up during this social encounter. provide detailed documentation of what to expect in a new setting. i will read the fuck out of that shit.

[szkicel]

btw guess who got into Arcana for the very first time, in the year of 2024

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[lengthy-artery]

.

[dirt-str1der]

I still get scared when i remember kiryu is canonically quite lean and not a fatty at all

[red-moon-at-night]

Survivor.

kind of a 'then vs now' comparison (idolhood vs living through everything post-idolhood) but in the same outfit.

the urge to quote "despite everything, it's still you" is very strong right now.

[carpe-dulcis-solis]

the whole 'moonlight' speech that lister gave to rimmer in TPL had me fucking FLOORED

[vanweezer]

very very personal, just insight into where im at w my family and things that bother me/have encouraged me to move out

"i know youre moving out so im just gonna say no ones kicking you out and if you feel like this is something you have to do then ok"

thanks! i know im not being kicked out! but yknow i kinda yet a weird vibe when your out of touch husband takes me to a cemetery to yell at me, tell me im just like my father/dont give my father "the time of day", and that im "mean to people who care about me" in front of his dead mother's grave in a poor attempt at guilting me out of speaking my mind. but no yeah thanks for stating the fucking obvious that im leaving on my own terms

[freshbaked-bread]

sawtuals how are we feeling