#i feel like i had a one night stand when i look at these .

[humanjarvis]

caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.  

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader  word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something. 

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest. 

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home. 

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled. 

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think. 

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.” 

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.” 

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.” 

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you. 

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend. 

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.  

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone. 

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her. 

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom. 

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving. 

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts. 

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs. 

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks. 

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him. 

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower. 

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied. 

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you. 

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him. 

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk. 

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.” 

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air. 

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses. 

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress. 

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core. 

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole. 

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you. 

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt. 

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace. 

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.” 

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry. 

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.” 

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs. 

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you. 

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease. 

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?” 

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.   

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!” 

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders. 

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say. 

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule. 

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers. 

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him. 

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—” 

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script. 

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions. 

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call. 

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin. 

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again. 

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does. 

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once. 

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.” 

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying. 

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him. 

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.” 

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt. 

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.” 

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him. 

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

[stellamarielu]

blurred lines II

joel miller x female reader

read part one here

summary: after the little stunt you pulled last night, joel can't bring himself to be in the same room as you. he's canceling his weekly plans to join your dad for sunday night football, and you're fed up with the awkward tension which leads you marching right over to his place determined to fix the problem.

content: nswf, 18+, dbf!joel, age gap, a sprinkle of angst, pet names [duh its joel], lots of praise, fingering, penetration, riding that man like a mechanical bull, unprotected sex, joel finishing in reader without explicit permission, basically just smut with very little plot let's go!

author's note: i need joel miller circa 2003 like i need air in my lungs, so of course i had to write a part 2 for this one

“What're you doin' here?”

Joel hadn’t expected to see you standing directly in front of him holding a Tupperware bowl when he opened his front door.

“Brought you some Chili.” You were stating nonchalantly as if he should’ve been expecting your company.

He had flaked on your dad tonight. Of course he had. 

After what happened last night, you didn’t expect him to show his face at your house like he normally did every Sunday, but it didn’t stop his excuse of feeling “under the weather” from pissing you off.

You made things complicated when you decided to call him last night. Why couldn’t you have kept it together and just called an uber instead?

You spent the entire day feeling guilty and embarrassed and even though you tried to blame your inappropriate advances on the alcohol you’d consumed, you knew it wasn’t the real reason you crossed a line in the backseat of his truck.

After he got out of coming over for the game, you watched the empty seat on your couch that he usually occupied and let the guilt eat you alive. Him and your dad should have been drinking beers and yelling at TV together, but instead your dad just sat in silence.

You couldn’t handle it— you needed to talk to Joel. You weren’t sure what you would even say to him, but before you knew it, you were packaging up leftovers and telling your dad you were taking dinner to Joel and Sarah during halftime.

“Is Sarah home?”

You were asking and looking over Joel’s shoulder, the leftovers still warm in your hands.

“No-“ 

He’d hardly responded when you pushed past him and into the familiar territory of his living room, cutting straight to the chase.

“Why didn’t you come over tonight?” 

“I think we both know the answer to that.” His voice was laced with annoyance at your question.

He was standing a few feet away, still by the front door. Watching as you angrily stormed into his house, setting the Tupperware down on the coffee table.

“Okay, but you didn’t have to lie to my dad.” 

You were coming in hot. You needed this to be over so you could stop feeling so embarrassed and remorseful about the whole thing. 

“Oh, your right, I should’ve just told him I almost fucked his daughter so it’d be kinda weird for me to come over.” Joel was scoffing as he leaned against a nearby wall, folding his arms over his chest. Your skin was burning at his words.

“Look I’m sorry for making things weird, but can we just move on? I don’t want to be the reason you don’t come around anymore. You’re like my dad’s only friend.”

“Then why’d you do it?” His voice was rough, almost like he was angry with you, but his eyes told a different story. They were gentle— carefully watching your expression as you wracked your brain for an answer. 

“Because…” You were trying to avoid his eyes but it was nearly impossible given the way he was staring so intently at you from across the room.

You started out so firm but now you were crumbling. His tender gaze picking away at you, wildling you down into a pile of nerves. 

“I don’t know Joel, let’s just drop it. I’ll keep to myself from now on and we can just pretend like nothing happened. Just please don’t let this effect your friendship with my dad.”

Joel chuckled at your words, an amused smile forming on his lips— Like this is something that could be easily forgotten. 

“Why’d you ask me to pick you up.” The smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it had formed. His demeanor was serious again as he revisited the objective of the conversation. The memory of you touching yourself in his car standing between you like an undeniable presence the room.

“What do you mean? I was out drinking and needed a ride.” You were trying to keep it together but there was a hint of hesitation in your words. 

“Yeah, but anyone could’ve given you a ride. Why’d you call me at 2am.” 

His eyes were locked on yours, heavy and sincere. 

“What do you want me to say Joel?"

here you go.

"Do you just want me to keep embarrassing myself? I didn’t want anyone else to pick me up. I wanted it to be you. I wanted an excuse to see you.” You were huffing out the words in a quiet voice, too mortified to speak above a whisper. 

“Thought that was pretty obvious when I had my hand between my legs in the backseat of your truck.” 

Your words were left ringing in the silent room as Joel just stared, his expression stuck in concentration. 

“Happy now?” You were deadpanning with a wave of your hands. Why wasn't he saying anything? You couldn’t read his expression and it was infuriating. 

“Very.” 

One word was all he said as he pushed himself off the wall, his arms still loosely crossed over his chest. He was taking small steps in your direction and your entire body froze. 

“I’ve been tryin’ to convince myself all day that you were just drunk last night. That the only reason you did such a filthy fuckin’ thing was because you were horny off one too many vodka sodas.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke, his body now within reach. 

“I needed to tell myself it wasn’t because you like me.” His eyes were glued to you.

“Needed to convince myself that ya weren’t bein’ all sweet touchin' yourself like that because ya wanted me to fuck you.”

He was taking another step, the gap between you dwindling down with every word he spoke.

“Because if that was the case, if ya did do it on purpose...” He paused, letting his eyes rake down your body. Taking his time before he continued, his stare lingering on your lips.

“Do ya know how hard it was for me to keep my fuckin’ hands to myself?” He was so close, you could see his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath he took.

His stare was dense and all you could think about was how you’d never been this close to him before.

“Joel…” You meant to whisper his name as a warning but instead it came out as a pathetic whimper; only encouraging another inevitable step over the blurred line of your relationship. 

He was leaning in, and you weren’t stopping him.

“This is such a bad fuckin’ idea.” He avoided your lips and ducked his head into your neck, his whisper landing right below your ear and you could feel his breath on your skin. 

“I don’t care.” The words were a rushed hum as your fingers found the nape of his neck. You suddenly felt desperate to have his lips on you. 

“Please.”

That word had Joel spiraling. God, hearing you beg for him like that, he needed to hear it again. Wanted to hear it fall from your lips over and over again while he had you sitting on his cock.

“You said you think about me when you touch yourself.” Joel’s voice was a hum against your skin as his lips finally connected with your neck. He was placing a long drawn-out kiss right beneath your jaw before pulling away just enough for more words to make their way from his mouth.  

“Tell me what you think about.” His breathless whisper on your body made you dizzy, sending your fingertips clutching into this hair- desperate to find something to tether you back to earth. 

“I think about the way it’d feel- when you touch me.” Another pitiful whine. 

“Touch you where?” His words were barely audible as he continued placing gentle kisses down the side of your neck. 

“Joel…”

“C’mon sweetheart, you were so brave tellin’ me what ya wanted last night. Don’t get all shy on me now.” His voice was low and rough- intoxicating. 

“Think about your fingers in me. How they’re so much bigger than mine. How good they’d feel filling me up.” 

You were reaching for one of his hands as you spoke, holding it in front of you and tracing his palm before you pressed your hands together, his was so big and rough compared to yours. 

Then he was intertwining your fingers together and using the hold to pull you into him, your bodies flushed together. A groan left his mouth sending a sweet vibration into your skin.

“There she is.” He was murmuring into the crook of your neck, his hands finding your waist and gripping tight, pulling your hips closer. He absorbed your frame in his own, the muscle of his body solid and sturdy against yours. 

Joel felt like he was dreaming.

After he got home from dropping you off last night, he barely made it to his room before he was yanking down his jeans and wrapping his hand around his dick. The images of your fingers pushed deep inside of you were pulled from his memory, making him finish in record time. He thought about you all night. He couldn’t even sleep as visions of you filled his mind; you curling your fingers into his hair with his head between your legs, you on your knees for him, you with your head buried into his pillow and your perfect ass pushed back while he railed into you from behind. He thought about nearly every sexual scenario possible and now you were here, your soft body like putty in his hands.

“Let’s see then.” His voice was low as he kissed your neck one last time, pulling away just enough to look you in the eyes. 

“See if I can make ya come on my fingers yeah?” 

There was a soft smile on his lips conflicting with his sinful heavy-lidded stare. His hands were unruly as he explored your figure, dipping beneath the material of your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin on his fingertips.

“Wanted to see it last night, could barely hold myself back from pushin’ your pretty little hand out of my way so I could be the one makin’ ya feel good.”

One of his hands remained on the skin just above the waistband of your jeans while the other trailed up your body until it was on your face.

Joel’s hand was carefully caressing your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your skin. The act was reminiscent of the way he was rubbing your thigh not even 24 hours ago, and the recollection had you clenching your thighs together. You let your mind wonder back to the dirty things Joel said to you last night; the way he watched with a predatory glare as you fingered yourself in front of him. You were lost in the echo of it all until Joel caught you off guard, crashing his lips into yours. 

His kiss was heavy. The weight of unspoken feelings and undeniable tension fueling the way his lips molded into yours. Your shared desire was finally being dealt with and the relief was almost palpable in the liberation of his mouth on yours.

Your lips were tangled in a messy embrace as Joel ushered you backwards until you felt the back of your legs hit the couch.

His lips were following as you flopped down on the cushions, his body leaning forward between your legs. The kiss didn’t lose any momentum as his hands pulled at your jeans. You were arching off the couch assisting Joel as he slid the denim down your legs, breaking the kiss to watch you kick them off your body completely. 

He had been aching to see you like this again. Legs spread and chest heaving. Only this time he didn’t have to hold back. He could touch you; see what you looked like with his fingers knuckles deep in your sweet little cunt.

At that reminder Joel was reaching a hand down to feel you through your panties, his fingertips tracing the outline of your swollen lips, already wet beneath your underwear. 

“Fuck sweetheart you’re soaked.” 

The hot sticky evidence of your arousal was seeping through the cotton material, causing Joel to let out an animalistic groan. He hadn’t even touched you yet and he was losing all sense of control. 

He continued running his fingers over the ruined material, circling your clit over the clothing.

You were already writhing under his touch, which you normally would’ve considered pathetic, but not now. Not when you had been waiting for this exact moment. Now that it was really unfolding, you were proud of yourself for not taking his hand in your own and shoving his fingers where you really needed them.

He kept circling slowly and intricately, still leaning over you— his face inches from yours.

“That feel good?” His voice was a sweet murmur as you moaned in response. 

He was pleased by your answer, pushing your panties to the side and dipping a single finger into your entrance. His digit was gently pressing into you as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

Letting you bathe in satisfaction for only a second, he was retreating. Pulling his thick finger from your core before pushing it back between your wet folds, only this time adding a second along with it.

You were immediately reaching for his forearm, grabbing it instinctively, looking for something to hold onto while you went braindead with pleasure. You were biting down on your lip as he leisurely pumped his fingers in and out of you, scared of the obscene noises you would make if you didn’t.

“Let me hear ya baby.” Joel was smiling down at you with a devious grin. He could see the way you were suppressing your moans. He wanted to hear you; wanted to know how good he was making you feel, wanted to hear the pretty sounds you made when you came around his fingers.  

You let your mouth fall open. The whimper that fell out upon hearing his words prompted Joel to push his fingers further into you, curling when he felt the spongey warmth of your walls tightening. 

He could tell by the moan rolling off your tongue that he had found a favorable spot deep in your core. He kept his fingers bending in the perfect position as he peered down at you. 

The sight beneath him had his hips bucking into nothing. You with your head thrown back on his couch; eyes shut, brows furrowed and jaw slack. After last night he thought he’d never see something so glorious again, but now you were proving him wrong. You looked so beautiful like this— all fucked-out with his hand between your legs. 

The deliberate curl of his fingers with each plunge was sending you reeling as you let profanities bubble up in your throat. Just as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release Joel added the pressure of his thumb on your clit.

“You gonna come already?” His words were sprinkled with amusement as he felt you clenching around his fingers. 

“Joel…” His name was a moan on your lips, and you were digging your fingers into his forearm, desperate to hold yourself steady as your body tensed.

“Fuck- you’re gonna come.” He was grunting as his fingers kept their pace. You were mewling out his name and nodding your head in desperation as you felt the coil inside you pulling tighter, ready to snap.

“Let me have it baby.” Joel was nearly begging you to let go. His tone as he growled out the words pushed you right over the edge, sending you into an abyss of pleasure. 

Your body was trembling as you whined out Joel’s name. He could feel your pussy squeezing his fingers as he continued to push them into you gently, relishing in the feeling of your warm embrace. 

“There ya go.” His grunts and groans were replaced with a calm voice as he worked you through your orgasm. 

“Good job sweetheart.”

His praises only added to the sensory overload running rampant through your body. 

“So beautiful baby.”

You were finally opening your eyes, looking up at him with a lust clouded gaze.

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing you again, only this time deeper. It was laced with passion and had you pulling him down onto the couch next to you.

Your mind and body were still buzzing from your climax, making it easier to gain dominance over him. You were pushing Joel back against the pillows and climbing onto his lap, straddling his waist. Your kiss had become sloppy and hungry as your lips worked in tandem to relieve the thick tension. 

“Off.” You were mumbling against his mouth and fumbling with the button of his jeans.

He got your message loud and clear as his own hands flew to the waistband of his pants. He was lifting his hips off the couch to free his body of the jeans but in doing so he was thrusting up into you, his erection grinding into your unclothed core. You were bringing your hands to his chest to stabilize yourself as he pushed his pants and underwear to the floor. 

You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering down to his member now on full display. He was big. You knew he would be, but this, this was more than you'd imagined. 

In awe you brought a hand between you, encasing him gently with your touch and ever so slowly letting your fingers follow up and down his length.

You looked to his face to see his eyes fluttering closed in pure delight from finally feeling some sort of relief. The pressure that had been building inside him since he watched you finger fuck yourself last night was slowly dissipating with every pump of your hand around his cock.

You stroked him a few times, your touch soft and cautious; driving Joel insane. He was groaning with every flick of your wrist.

“Need to be inside ya.” A longing yet primal gaze took over his expression as he muttered the words; confessing his need to feel you, all of you.

They were the magic words, the ones that had you lifting your hips and guiding the head of his cock to your slicked entrance. You lingered there, with his tip filling you just enough, soaking in the final tension filled moments before you both completely gave in to your mutual desire.

Your eyes were locked on his, the two of you exchanging one last look of approval before you were sinking further onto him. 

You both let out hums of relief as you felt him stretching you inch by inch.

You were moving slowly, letting yourself adjust to his size as you relaxed onto him. His fingers were gripping onto your hips, holding you steady but careful not to guide you further. He wanted to let you set the pace. 

You sunk down until you were met the base of his cock rubbing against your clit. You were sat completely on him, taking a moment to savor the way he felt pushing deep inside of you. 

“That’s it baby.” He was whispering another praise as his hands traced up your body, taking your shirt with them and tossing it to the floor. Then his touch was on your face, holding your jaw in his fingertips and bringing your gaze down to meet his. 

“That okay? Feel good?” His questions were genuine, but they were spiked with such a immoral tone you might’ve thought he was mocking you. 

“So good.” Your voice was breathless as you affirmed him.

You decisively rocked your hips over his and an unconscious moan slipped from your lips at feeling him move inside you.

He brought his hands back to your hips as you started to move. Gripping onto your skin and guiding your body onto his as you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

“Oh honey- fuck.” He was moaning out as you picked up your pace, relentlessly taking him as deep as you could with every rebound. 

“That’s its baby.” His words were tumbling out of his mouth with every movement of your hips. You were riding him with such precision his mind was going numb, rendering him uncapable of piecing together coherent sentences.

Your palms were flat against his chest and your head thrown back in pleasure as he rubbed against you at just the right angle. You were using him to your full advantage as you shamelessly fucked yourself on his cock.

“Take what ya need baby.” He was encouraging your lewd movements, the sounds leaving his mouth were borderline pathetic as he tried to keep himself together long enough to feel you coming around him.  

He was letting his hands wander further, gripping the flesh of your ass with his palms and using the hold to pull you harder into him with each thrust. 

The desperation in his grasp had you seeing stars. You were bracing yourself on the rigid surface of his chest as you felt the familiar crawl of a second release sneaking up on you.

“Joel I’m gonna…” Your announcement was cut short by a surprised whine as Joel moved his hips along with yours, pushing himself even deeper into you. The way he was stretching, filling and holding onto you had your body straining and your vision blurring.

“Let me have it sweetheart.” 

The carnal grunt off Joel’s tongue as he coaxed you into another orgasm brought you to your finish. You were clutching at his chest, your body melting into his. The pleasure surging through your body caused you to lose all balance, making you slump forward until your forehead found his.

Joel reached for you, placing a hand carefully at the nape of your neck, holding you against him. 

“God you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Another groan was leaving his throat as he pushed his lips onto yours. You were still coming down from your high, pussy squeezing and clasping around him as he muffled your moans with his mouth. 

“So perfect baby.” He was mumbling as he used both of his hands to hold you firm, slowly bringing his hips up to meet yours. His pace was unhurried as he took pleasure in the way you fluttered around him. Then he got caught up in the moment, his tempo quickening. He was thrusting into you persistently, mercilessly rutting as breathless whimpers fell from his tongue. He was holding you still with his fingers curling into your hips as he drove into you— hard and fast.

He was groaning and greedily fucking up into you as his hips began to stutter. With a low guttural sound his movements ceased and you were met with the warmth of his release spreading into you.

He was frozen in place for a few seconds, catching his breath and gathering a sense of composure. You could feel him throbbing in you as his hands kept their hold on your hips. 

“That was so fuckin’ stupid.” He was muttering under his breath, and you immediately felt insecure. He was still inside you and he was already regretting hooking up with you?

“We don’t have to do it again Joel, it was just-“ You were beginning to defend yourself before Joel cut you off. 

”No sweetheart, comin’ in ya.” Joel looked at you with a sympathetic grin on his face.

“I can’t be doin’ that.” He was shaking his head at the poor decision of burying his spend deep inside you. 

“I’m on birth control, it’s okay.” You felt relieved to know his shame wasn’t about having sex with you, but rather his panic of potentially knocking you up. Understandable. 

“Don’t care it’s not smart.” He was reaffirming and leaning up to place a kiss on your forehead; a simple gesture but it had butterflies swarming your stomach.

“How ya gonna explain to your dad why it took so long to drop off leftovers?” Joel was releasing his clutch on your hips and letting his hands rest lightly on your thighs as he spoke. 

“Oh my god, please don’t talk about my dad right now.”

You were mortified. You couldn’t think about your dad. Not while you were straddling his best friend’s lap who’s come was fighting not to leak out between you. 

“Looks like I’m really gonna need to move out soon.” You were groaning and bringing your fingers to your temples, hiding your face in your hands. 

“Oh, without a doubt.” Joel was laughing at your predicament, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t keep having you like this. Now that he’d gotten a taste, he wouldn’t be letting you out of his sight any time soon.

my masterlist

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:43 pm]

(cw: f!reader, Mark is drunk)

"Fuck yeah! Keg stand champion!" You hear someone yell as you make your way into the crowded living room of the NXT frat house.

You hadn't planned on being here tonight. You had some assignments you wanted to get a jump on, you hadn't been in the best mood all day, and you didn't feel like spending your night around a bunch of drunken, bumbling idiots.

So how did you end up here? Your drunk, bumbling boyfriend fratboy!Mark. Well, not him directly. He'd been a little whiny when you told him you weren't going to come to the party tonight, but he understood your reasoning and didn't push. You'd actually gotten a call from Johnny about 20 minutes ago asking you to come help with Mark.

Mark was a lightweight, like a featherweight even. If he even smelled alcohol, he got tipsy. For the most part, during parties, you put yourself in charge of making sure Mark didn't get too drunk. When he got too drunk he got messy. Without you being there, there was no one to be in charge. You should have guessed you'd be getting this call at some point in the night, but not less than an hour after the party began.

You elbow past some drunk party goers and make your way upstairs toward one of the bathrooms that's always off limits during parties. You knock, hearing a muffled, "occupied! Use a bathroom downstairs!"

"Johnny," you reply, "it's me."

You hear a retch and cringe, listening as Johnny pulls the door open. He let's out a sigh of relief, "I'm sorry, he just wouldn't stop crying because he missed you. I don't know how you deal with this. He's fine with you, right?"

"Of course he is. Thanks for calling, enjoy your party," you nod with a smile.

Johnny leaves you and Mark alone in the bathroom and you take to helping Mark out. You rub his back and give him the water bottle Johnny had left on the counter for him. Mark is groaning the whole time, eyes shut as he curls in on himself. After about 15 minutes you know that he's done.

He's slumped against the toilet bowl when you pat his cheek, "come on, babe. Let's get you back to bed."

He doesn't even open his eyes as he whines, "not goin' to my room wi' you."

"We need to get you to bed, babe, come on," you prod.

His eyes snap open as he lifts his head, "Stop callin' me babe. Look, I have a girlfriend alright. She won't be happy if I bring another girl to my room."

"Mark, I am your girlfriend," you explain.

"No, you're not," Mark shakes his head like a child, "my girlfriend didn't wanna come out tonight, and she said— she said she's not comin' tonight." He's looking up at you with tears in his eyes, "I really miss 'er."

You crouch down beside him, cupping his cheek as you coo, "baby, I'm here. It's me."

"No, you're not you!" He squints at you, rubbing his eyes and grumbling about needing his glasses, "if you're my girlfriend, tell me something only my girlfriend would know."

You stare at Mark blankly, as his girlfriend since senior year of high school, there's a lot of things only you would know. You shrug and answer anyway, "when we lost our virginities to each other you cried."

"My mom knows that too, pick something else!"

"Mark, why would you tell your mom about that?" You ask incredulously.

"She loves me!" He cries, "just like my girlfriend! I miss my girlfriend!"

"Oh my— Mark Lee. It's me, I'm your girlfriend. You text me every time you need to wash your sheets because you forget how much detergent you need, you like it when I kiss below your ear, you keep snacks under your bed for midnight snacks, and you have a crush on the librarian on the third floor for some reason," you list off.

"Oh, my snuggle muffin! It is you! I missed you!" Mark exclaims as he throws himself into your lap, embracing you tightly.

You laugh, brushing your fingers through his damp hair, "I told you. Can we get you to bed now?"

"You're staying right?"

"Yes, Mark."

[wchswift]

─── dark paradise

pairing: soldier boy x fem!reader

summary: forced to share a motel bed, you and soldier boy push each other’s limits, until the tension gets too much.

contents! porn with plot, cursing, "enemies" to "lovers" (more of hate-sex partners), pet names, bratty action, little spanking, tension, unprotected sex p in v, smut (so the usual warnings); mdni 𖤐 18+

word count: 1k

It’s Butcher’s fault.

Of course, it is.

The bastard had barely spared you a glance when he tossed you the motel key, muttering a quick, "S'only one room left. Deal with it." before heading off to his own damn bed, probably sleeping like a baby while you were about to experience hell.

Because standing behind you, staring at that single, shitty-ass motel bed, is Soldier Boy.

Smug. Smirking.

Because of all people, you were stuck with the most infuriating, sexist, arrogant piece of shit Supe on the planet.

And worse?

He was undeniably, unfairly fucking hot.

That cocky smirk. That thick beard. That solid wall of muscle barely hidden beneath his suit. He oozed confidence, the kind of man who knew he could say or do whatever the fuck he wanted and get away with it. The worst part? You had to pretend like you hadn’t definitely thought about what it’d be like to have those hands on you—rough, strong, possessive.

But that wasn’t happening.

No way.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me," you breathe out, rubbing a hand down your face.

Soldier Boy just chuckles behind you, stepping into the room with all that confidence. Looking so goddamn smug you wanted to punch him. Or maybe shove something in his mouth to shut him up—just not your tongue.

You exhaled sharply, grabbing one of the shitty motel pillows and stomping toward the armchair in the corner. "I’ll sleep here."

"Oh c'mon... what, you afraid to sleep next to me, sweetheart? Afraid you might like it?"

He dropped his shield onto the floor with a heavy thud. The mattress squeaked as he sat down, legs spread wide, watching you like a cat watching a mouse it was about to pounce on.

Your jaw tightened. "Afraid you’ll wake up with my foot up your ass."

His laugh was a low, deep rumble, so fucking cocky. "Damn. Feisty. I like that."

You ignored him, trying to make the armchair comfortable—except it was fucking impossible. The seat was stiff, the armrests dug into your ribs, and after about two minutes, your back already ached.

Soldier Boy was watching. He knew.

"Go ahead, suffer all night. Or—" He patted the mattress beside him. "You could just quit bein’ a stubborn little brat and get your ass in bed."

You snapped, "I’d rather die."

"Alright, suit yourself." He stretched out, kicked off his boots, and took off part of his suit.

After a few minutes, you heard him sigh.

"C'mon, doll. I don’t bite." A beat. "Unless you ask real nice."

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Thirty minutes later, you gave up. With a growl, you stomped over to the bed.

"Not. A. Fucking. Word." You hissed.

Your hands clenching into fists. "If you touch me in your sleep, I’m breaking your fingers."

His smile was so wide you could practically feel the smugness wave from him.

"Baby, if I touch you, you won’t be breaking shit. You’ll be begging for more."

Your face burns.

You throw yourself onto the bed, keeping as much distance as possible between you. You yank the thin motel blanket over yourself and turn away from him, fuming.

But the second you slipped under the sheets, he turned on his side, facing you. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You kept your back to him, grinding your teeth. "Shut up, Soldier Boy."

"Aw, c’mon. Call me Ben. We’re close now, ain’t we?"

"Eat shit, Ben."

He laughed—actually laughed—the low, husky sound way too fucking sexy for this situation. You squeezed your eyes shut, determined to ignore him.

Until—

A shift. The mattress dipped behind you. His breath—warm, slow—ghosting over the back of your neck.

"What are you doing." Your voice was tight.

"Relax." His voice was lower now, smug, lazy. "Just getting comfortable."

Bullshit.

His arm stretched over your waist—not touching, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.

"You’re so goddamn tense, sweetheart." A pause. Then— "Wonder why that is."

Your entire body stiffened.

"Maybe," he continued, voice dipping into something almost sinful, "’cause you’re trying real fuckin’ hard not to think about me fucking you."

Your breath hitched.

"Not to think about how good it’d feel to let me wreck that bratty little mouth of yours. Break you in just right."

Your throat went dry.

His fingers barely grazed your hip, testing the waters, a feather-light touch—like he was daring you to stop him.

You should. You should.

But your pulse was hammering. Your thighs clenched. And he knew it.

"You don’t wanna admit it, do you?" His lips were right by your ear now. "That you’re already getting wet just from the thought."

Your breath was uneven. "Go fuck yourself."

He chuckled. "Oh, baby. I’d rather fuck you."

After that, everything snapped.

You didn’t know who moved first—you or him—but suddenly you were on your back, pinned beneath him.

His mouth crashed against yours, all teeth and hunger, and you hated how fucking good he kissed. Rough. Demanding. Like he owned you already.

His hands tear at your clothes, ripping them away, his mouth hot and bruising against your skin. You barely process how fast it happens, his hands everywhere—gripping your throat, forcing your thighs apart, pressing bruises into your skin. So fucking dominant it makes your head spin.

"You gonna be good for me now, sweetheart? Huh?" His voice was a growl, his hand gripping your jaw. "Or you still gonna act like a brat?"

You spat, "Fuck you—"

Slap.

A sharp, stinging smack to your thigh. Your breath hitched—not in pain, but in something so much worse.

"Wrong answer."

Then, he pushes in.

A sharp stretch, filling you in one deep, slow thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs.

"That’s my girl," he breathes.

You whimper, body trembling, arching, clenching down on him.

Soldier Boy sucks in a sharp breath, stilling inside you.

"Jesus fuck," he growls. "You feel that, babydoll? The way you’re squeezin’ me?" His voice is strained, ragged. "So fuckin’ tight. Shit."

He finally starts to move.

Slow, so slow, dragging it out, forcing you to feel everything.

His pace is deliberate, teasing—rolling his hips, stretching you open, pushing deeper with every thrust, until you’re gasping, clawing at his back, needing more, needing him.

"You’re gonna take it, your little brat," he murmurs, taunting, dirty. "Gonna let me fuck you like I should’ve from the start."

You whimper, body arching into him.

He pounds into you, harder now, faster, unforgiving. Your thighs tremble, burn, but he just shoves them higher, wider, completely open to him.

And that mouth? Never stopped.

"Look at you." A dark chuckle, his grip tightening in your hair. "Not so mouthy now, huh?"

You gasped, back arching, your nails scratching his back.

"Use your words, babydoll. Tell me how good I’m making you feel."

"F-fuck you—"

Slap.

"Try again."

His fingers find your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles.

Your breath shatters.

Your head tilts back, helpless, back arching into him. "S-so fucking good—"

"That’s it, baby," he groans, pushing you over the edge, feeling your body clench, convulse around him.

You break.

Pleasure rips through you, blinding, earth-shattering, unstoppable.

And Ben follows.

His thrusts turn messy, desperate, his body shaking as he buries himself deep, groaning, cursing, growling your name as he spills into you, claiming you in every fucking way.

He stays there for a second, breath hot and ragged against your skin, his body heavy, unmovable.

And in the morning?

That smug, insufferable smirk would be the first thing you’d see.

"Told ya you’d like it, doll."

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: soo this is my first sb fic and the first time I post smut so I'm really nervous lol. I'm still learning and trying to improve my writing with explicit scenes, but I really hope it's at least good, enjoyable to read!! 🫶 (and plss comments and feedbacks will be greatly appreciated.)

special tags for some soldier boy lovers: @blossomingorchids @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @daylighted @vmiina @gibson-g1rl @figthoughts @stargrltara @starzify @angelackless @bluemerakis @jasvtsc

(I don't have a taglist for soldier boy yet but if anyone wants to be added just let me know)

[sparkleyun]

7 minutes in heaven

pairing: jake x fem!reader genre: fluff, highschool au synopsis: After weeks of burying yourself in textbooks, your best friend has had enough. She insists you take a break and drags you to a party thrown by her and a few of her other friends. You’re skeptical at first, since parties aren’t really your thing, but you find yourself actually enjoying the night. That is, until he walks in. The guy who’s made your life miserable all year. The one who never misses a chance to tease you. wc: 2.4k warnings: Jake teases reader for being uptight and a "nerd", alcohol, Jake redemption arc basically

"Come on, you can’t seriously be saying no again."

Your best friend is sprawled across your bed, her head hanging off the edge as she stares at you with an exaggerated pout. You don’t look up from your notes, but you can feel the weight of her gaze.

"I have a chemistry exam next week." you reply, flipping a page in your textbook for dramatic effect.

She groans, dramatically rolling onto her stomach and burying her face in your pillow.

"You always have a chemistry exam, or an essay, or some other reason to close yourself off and forget what fun is."

You frown but don’t respond. However, she doesn't stop there. She props herself up on her elbows, eyes narrowing.

"You know what your problem is?"

"Oh, I’m sure you’re about to tell me." You mutter, playing with your pen as you agonizingly await her answer.

"You don’t do anything," she declares, flinging her arms out like this is some major revelation. "You just study and go to school, and come home and study more. When’s the last time you had an actual conversation with someone who wasn’t a teacher or me?"

You open your mouth, then pause. You were unable to answer her question, which unfortunetly meant she was right.

"Exactly. Which is why you’re coming to this party tonight." she says with a proud grin plastered across her face.

You scoff. "Yeah, no. Not happening."

"Yes, happening." She rolls onto her side, supporting her head up with her hand. "It’s just a party, not a death sentence. You go, you loosen up, maybe even talk to a cute guy"

You shoot her a glare.

"Fine, fine." She waves you off. "But at least let yourself have fun. You deserve a break."

You hesitate. You really don’t want to go, but she knows you too well. She’s persistent, you're compliant, and she always gets her way eventually.

She starts listing all the things she’ll do in exchange: buying you coffee for a week, finishing your half of a group project, doing your laundry, etc. Exhausted by her antics, you finally cave.

"One hour," you say, closing your textbook with a sigh. "And if it sucks, I’m leaving."

She grins like she’s just won the lottery. "Deal."

───

The party is already in full swing by the time you arrive. The house is packed with people, and the music is playing so loudly that you can feel the bass vibrating in your chest. They are everywhere, spilling out onto the front lawn and swaying to the beat of whatever playlist is blasting through the speakers inside.

You hesitate at the entrance. This isn’t your usual scene. Crowds, noise, chaos- it’s the opposite of the structured, predictable and quiet world you are used to.

"Stop overthinking it," says your friend, linking her arm through yours. "I swear, you’re gonna have fun."

You let her pull you inside, where the air reeks of alcohol. The energy is infectious though, and despite being outside of your comfort zone, you start to loosen up.

After a few introductions (most of which you forgot immediately), you manage to carve out a comfortable spot in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a soda can in your hand. Surprisingly, you’re enjoying yourself more than you expected. You’re still not a party person, but it’s nice to let go for a while, to watch the chaos from a safe distance and not worry about exams or deadlines.

Then, just as you start thinking this might not be so bad, your stomach drops.

Jake is standing near the pool table, laughing with his group of friends.

Your body freezes and your heart begins to race. No, no, no. This isn’t happening. Out of all the people in the world, why does he have to be here?

He hasn’t seen you yet, but that doesn’t stop the familiar wave of irritation and, if you’re being honest, a little bit of panic, from crashing over you the moment you realized he was there. Jake, your personal pesterer, the guy who has spent the entire year making you miserable. He’s always got a sharp comment ready, always looking for ways to get under your skin. And now, somehow, he’s here, in the same space, at the same party as you.

Your first instinct is to disappear. Maybe you can blend into the crowd, maybe-

Too late.

His eyes land on you.

You watch in real time as he recognizes your face, followed by something else. A quick curl of his lips into that infuriatingly familiar smirk.

"Well, well," he drawls, abandoning his friends and making his way towards you. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

Your grip tightens around your drink.

"Didn’t expect to be here." you mutter, shifting your weight as he stops in front of you. He looks effortlessly relaxed, dressed in a way that makes it clear he belongs here, like he was made for this kind of scene. Meanwhile, you feel like an imposter.

He tilts his head, his smirk deepening. "So, what happened? Library closed down?"

You roll your eyes. "Wow, you must’ve been saving that one all year."

He chuckles, clearly amused by your growing impatience. "I gotta admit, I’m kind of impressed. Didn’t even think you knew what a party was."

You glare at him, but before you can snap back, your friend suddenly appears at your side, looking between the two of you with an arched brow. "Everything okay?"

Jake doesn’t even glance at her. His focus is still on you, eyes fixated on your nervous figure, despite your attempts to retort.

"Oh, we’re just catching up," he says smoothly.

"Yeah, more like trying to ruin my night" you mutter under your breath.

He grins. "Now, now. I didn't do anything besides try to have a pleasant conversation."

"Are you kidding me?" you muttered under your breath.

Without thinking, you grabbed your best friend by the wrist and pulled her towards a quieter corner of the room.

"Whoa, what was that about?" she yelped.

"Why is he here?" you hissed, jerking your head in Jake’s direction.

She blinked, following your gaze. "Who?"

"Who do you think?"

When she spotted him, a look of realization crossed her face.

"Ohhh, him? Yeah, I invited him."

You gaped at her. "Are you actually insane?"

"Relax," she said, waving a hand. "He’s friends with a bunch of people here. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" You stared at her in disbelief. "He makes my life miserable, and you invited him?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, y/n. He teases you, yeah, but it’s harmless. He’s actually kinda fun if you get to know him."

"I don’t want to get to know him."

"Well, too late," she said, nudging you playfully. "You’re at the same party. Might as well make the best of it."

You exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to throttle her.

Just then, as if the universe was conspiring against you, Jake glanced back in your direction. The second your eyes met, his lips curled into that infuriating smirk once again.

"So" he drawled, making his way toward you. "You didn’t think I’d see you here, huh?"

Your grip tightened on your best friend’s arm.

"Look, can you just let me have this?" The frustration in your voice clearly displayed. "I don’t want to deal with you tonight."

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling into that all too familiar smirk. "Wow, I didn’t know you were so desperate for a night off from me. I must really be living rent free in that head of yours."

You shoot him a sharp glare, but to your surprise, he just chuckles, raising his hands in a mocking surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll let you sulk in peace for now."

With one last glance, he turns around, meeting his friends and disappearing into the crowd, leaving you exhaling in relief, but your body still tense.

───

You’ve been at the party for over an hour now, and to your own shock, you’re not hating it, even after the small encounter. Your best friend was right. Getting out of the house for once wasn’t the worst decision. You even found yourself relaxing a little, laughing at jokes, sipping your soda, and, of course, avoiding Jake as much as possible.

Unfortunately, your luck runs out when someone shouts over the music.

"We’re playing seven minutes in heaven! Everyone get in a circle!"

Your stomach twists. No, absolutely not. No way.

You immediately shake your head and turn to your friend. "Nope. Not happening."

"Oh, come on," she groans. "It’s just a game!"

"Yeah, a game where people get shoved into a closet together for seven minutes," you point out."That sounds like my personal hell."

She rolls her eyes. "You don’t even have to do anything. Half of the time people just talk. It’s just for fun."

You’re still not convinced. You’re about to make a run for it when a hand suddenly lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

"Oh, you’re definetly playing"

You already know who it is before you even turn around. Jake stands behind you, looking infuriatingly amused.

"I am not playing," you insist.

"She is!" your friend calls, betraying you in an instant.

Before you can argue, someone grabs your wrist and drags you toward the circle. You shoot a desperate glare at your best friend, who only grins and mouths "you’ll thank me later".

Doubt it.

With a pained sigh, you lower yourself onto the floor. The circle is filled with laughter and excitement. Most people are already whispering about who they hope to get. Meanwhile, you sit stiffly, arms crossed, willing yourself to become invisible.

"Alright," someone announces, shaking a hat filled with slips of paper. "Ladies first!"

One by one, people take turns drawing a name and disappearing into a nearby closet. You silently hope the game will be over before it gets to you, but of course, life isn’t kind like that.

Eventually, the hat is passed to you.

You hesitate. You knew that if you refused now, you’ll just draw more attention to yourself. Sighing, you reach inside and pull out a folded slip of paper. For a brief, hopeful moment, you pray it’s someone harmless.

Then, you unfold it, and your stomach drops.

Jake Sim

Your breath hitches as you stare at the name, hoping it would magically change. Maybe if you blink enough times, you’ll see someone else’s name instead.

No such luck.

"Who’d you get?" someone asks eagerly.

You open your mouth to lie, to make up a name, but before you can, he leans forward, plucking the paper right out of your hands. His laughter is immediate.

"Well, this is going to be interesting."

You glare at him, heart pounding. "I’ll pick again."

"That’s not how it works." someone protests.

"C’mon, rules are rules." Jake chimes in.

You clench your jaw. He’s still looking at you, waiting, enjoying this far too much.

"Fine." you snap. "Let’s get this over with."

Someone cheers as you push yourself up, and before you know it, you’re being ushered towards a small coat closet. He follows you at a relaxed pace, as if this is all just another way for him to mess with you.

The second the door closes behind you, you cross your arms tightly over your chest and sit down on the floor, determined to count down the minutes in silence.

For a while, that’s exactly what happens. Neither of you speak. The only sounds are the muffled bass of the party outside and the occasional distant noise of people speaking.

Then, predictably, he breaks the silence.

"You’re taking this way too seriously."

You don’t respond.

"What? Are you afraid of being alone with me?" he teases.

"No." you mutter.

"You sure? Because you’re standing all the way over there like I’m contagious."

You scowl. "Maybe you are."

He chuckles, amused. "Damn."

Silence again.

Then, softer this time, he speaks as he bends down to sit at your level "You really don’t like me, huh?"

You look away, your throat tightening. "What gave it away?" you say in a sarcastic tone

He sighs. "Look, I know I mess with you a lot. But it’s not that serious."

Suddenly, something in you snaps.

"Not that serious?" you echo, your voice rising. "You humiliate me every chance you get. You make fun of me in front of everyone. You act like I’m some kind of joke- like I’m beneath you. So yeah, it kind of is that serious."

The words spill out before you can stop them. Your voice is thick, emotions bubbling to the surface all at once. You didn’t realize how much had built up until now.

He doesn’t respond right away, but when he finally does, his voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

"I didn’t think it actually bothered you."

You scoff. "Of course it bothers me."

There’s a pause. Then, unexpectedly, he says, "I’m sorry."

You blink in disbelief. "What?"

He exhales. "I mean it. I didn’t think- I just thought it was fun, you know? I didn’t realize I was actually hurting you."

You look at him, really look at him, and before you can process it, there’s a shift in the air. The small space between you two seems to shrink, his apology hanging heavy in the air, dense with unspoken feelings. Your pulse suddenly quickens.

Then, he reaches out.

Your body freezes as his fingers brush against your wrist, the touch barely there. You should pull away, you should, but for some reason, you don’t.

"I didn’t mean to make you feel like that," he murmurs. "I swear."

Your throat tightens. "Then why do it?"

His fingers curl slightly around your wrist, hesitant. His voice is almost too quiet to hear.

"Because it was the only way I knew how to get your attention."

Your heart stops. The space between the two of you shrinks, and something shifts in your chest.

Before you can process it, the door suddenly swings open.

"Time’s up!"

Light floods the tiny space, and you both flinch. Laughter erupts from the crowd outside, but you’re too disoriented to play along.

You step out first, heartbeat hammering in your ears. Jake follows closely behind, his expression unreadable.

"Well?" Your friend asks eagerly. "What happened?"

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

You’re still reeling, still processing the fact that everything between you and Jake abruptly changed.

Because he apologized.

Because he meant it.

Because for the first time ever, you don't hate him at all.

a/n: this is my first ever fanfic so I hope it's good ( ◜ᗢ◝ ) if this post does well I might post a part 2!!

[akawifeyy]

silly girl | smau (LN4)

description: the life of a comedian is full of laughter, but the biggest punchline? your experience with love.

tropes: chaos galore, he's obsessed with her, sunshine x sunshine, age gap (23 and 25), comedian!fem!reader

face claim: faith collins

trigger warnings: suggestive content, some mature jokes, swearing

| note: hehehe i love this fic 🫶

@ yourusername: dallas was incredible, i had the best time laughing with you all! a recorded video of tonight's show is posted at the link in my bio if you couldn't make it. see you next weekend in austin 😘

tagged: @ standupcomedy

comments (2567):

@ user1: Amazing shows! I went to Night 2 and I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Wish I bought tickets for the other two nights.

-> @ user2: sooo real, i got to see her in miami and i felt like my heart was going to explode from laughing

@ user3: Incredible job, so proud 💖

@ user4: Mother has fed us during this tour, I never want it to end

@ yourbffusername: SCREAMING CRYING, I love you SO much Y/N

@ f1: Just 3 more days until COTA! How are you gearing up for the Grand Prix?

tagged: @ mclaren, @ mercedes, @ redbullracing, & 6 more

comments (49584):

@ landonorris: Can't wait to be a cowboy again 🤠

@ user5: COTAAAA MY BELOVED

@ user6: so excited!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@ user7: No because I'm actually a second away from crashing out because I just realized @ yourusername's show is at the same time as the Austin GP

-> @ user8: wait nonono you're joking 😭 i bought tickets too

10/19/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: I feel like if I don't bring this up, the masses are going to come at me with pitchforks. (clearing throat) Today's a pretty big day in Austin. Um, Formula One is having its COTA Grand Prix.

Audience members: (whooping)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, looks like we have quite a few F1 fans in here. I'd kind of consider myself one, but please don't ask me what DRS stands for off the top of my head or what Ferrari's strategies are during races, because I wouldn't be able to tell you. But anyways, I found out that I scheduled this show at the same time as the GP.

Audience member: (loud yelling noise)

Y/N L/N: (breaks down laughing) Yep, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. But I totally get it. Seeing a bunch of rich, hot men drive around in circles? Like, aw man, where did my pants go? I swear they were just on. (continues giggling) Seriously, though, some of those drivers? It should be illegal how attractive they are. Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris. Oh God, don't even get me started on Lando Norris.

Y/N L/N: (eyes widen dramatically) I never liked brunettes or Englishmen, but he might just make me change my mind.

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: Have you seen the clips from Y/N L/N's most recent comedy show here in Austin?

Lando Norris: (laughs) Yes, I heard about it!

Interviewer: Thoughts?

Lando Norris: She's very funny. I like her sense of humor. But as for relationships, I have to focus on my racing, so I can't get distracted. Sorry!

10/20/25 at Y/N's Show (Transcript):

Y/N L/N: So... Yesterday's show. (makes popping sound with lips) Some of y'all, I feel like I need to ban you – and before you boo, let me explain why. I made jokes about Formula One drivers, and how hot they are, and a select few of you decided to out me? (mock gasp)

Y/N L/N: Yeah, I know! Fucking Lando Norris was interviewed about me! Isn't that insane? This ultra-rich motor sport driver was asked about some redhead girl who yaps for a living. And he called me funny? I need to put this on my resume.

Audience member: You two need to date!

Y/N L/N: The matchmaking is insane. Oh God, wait until my mother hears about this, then I'm actually cooked. I'm 23 years old, I have a lot of biological time left, but you're vultures! When is it going to end? And don't say, "When you get married to Lando Norris", because it's not happening. Sadly.

@ ynupdates: Contrary to popular belief, Y/N did have a boyfriend! This was way back in 2019 to 2022. His name is Emmett Ellgren, and they dated for three years until their mutual split. Since then, Y/N has poked fun at the relationship, but no substantial details have been released about their break up.

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (2942):

@ user9: HELP i forgot about emmett he's such an npc 😮‍💨

@ user10: emmett is no longer relevant to the lore

-> @ user2: The real man we should be paying attention to is Lando Norris

-> @ user8: i know omg 😭

comments (3842):

@ user11: They're both silly gooses, I'm scared to see the havoc they'll wreak together in McLaren 🥲

@ user12: i'll believe it when i see it

@ user13: Lando is too immature to have a stable girlfriend

-> @ user3: which is why Y/N's perfect, they'll be immature together 🥰

-> @ user4: This just proves you've never watched one of Y/N's shows before lmao

Y/N's Instagram Story (2025):

comments (8521):

@ user13: OMG OMG OMG IT'S STARTING

-> @ user14: I'm so glad I get to be alive during the LandoY/N era

@ user12: It'll be so funny if this turns out to be from Oscar or something 🙃

-> @ user15: HELP

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ landonorris: P3 in Mexico! Awesome results

tagged: @ mclaren, @ f1, @ yourusername

comments (64312):

@ user16: ALERT ALERT Y/N HAS BEEN TAGGED

@ user13: guys i'm actually gonna combust 🫣🔥

-> @ user17: They're together, it has to be

@ yourusername: nice sombrero 😋

-> @ landonorris: Thank you!!!

Text Messages between Y/N and Lando (2025):

@ yourusername: hola mexico 🇲🇽

tagged: @ landonorris

comments (3846):

@ yourbffusername: Looks so fun!

-> @ yourusername: yes it was incredible

@ user10: laaandoooo i see you 👀

@ user18: How does it feel to be living my dream

@ landonorris: So glad you could make it, had a lot of fun talking to you

@ f1gossip: It is rumored that comedian Y/N L/N and McLaren driver Lando Norris are together, after Y/N posted a photo of her receiving paddock passes, and the pair responded to one another's posts about the Mexico Grand Prix.

tagged: @ yourusername, @ landonorris

comments (1293):

@ user9: i'm waitinggg

@ user10: this is worse than the wait for reputation tv

-> @ user18: clowning so hard i know 😖

@ user19: HAVE ANY OF YOU GUYS SEEN LANDO'S INSTA STORY? 🤯

Lando's Deleted Instagram Story:

comments (235):

@ user20: OMGOMGDSDKLSDDNS

@ user21: my eyes are not deceiving me, this is y/n

@ user5: Y/N IS THAT YOU 😳

@ landonorris: OK OK yes I give in, we are together. Happy one month, @ yourusername, I love you to the moon and back!

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (34852):

@ user21: classic Lando accidentally posting the wrong thing and outing himself

-> @ user22: idk what else we would expect from chaos incarnate 😭

@ yourusername: love you too, muppet 😘

Interview with Lando Norris (2025):

Interviewer: So, you've just recently announced that you're dating Y/N L/N!

Lando Norris: Yes, I'm really happy about it.

Interviewer: Any plans to bring her to the next race?

Lando Norris: Maybe, we'll see. (laughs and smiles) The paddock is a lot cheerier when she's there, so hopefully, fingers crossed. I'm very, very lucky to call her mine.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. run for the hills ⭑ D.A

⟡ synopsis daniela has always kept you at arm’s length. close enough to make you stay, but never enough to let you in. stuck in an endless push-and-pull, you finally reach your breaking point, forcing her to make a choice: fight for you or lose you forever. but when the moment comes, daniela hesitates—and this time, you’re the one who walks away first.

warnings: chat idk… somewhat angst? but at the same time, not really

currently playing: run for the hills - tate mcrae

you should have walked away the first time.

that night, when her fingers brushed against yours in the dim glow of the city lights. when her lips parted like she had something to say but never said it. when she gave you that look—the one that made your chest tighten and your stomach twist into something uncertain.

you should have walked away before she could leave first.

but you didn’t.

and now, here you were again, standing in front of her like a fool, like someone who hadn’t learned their lesson.

the cycle was always the same.

daniela would come close, just close enough for you to feel the heat of her presence, the gravity of her attention. and just when you thought you could reach her, she would disappear. she would build walls out of silence, out of half-meant apologies and fleeting glances that never turned into anything more.

and yet, you always stayed.

tonight was no different. The two of you stood outside after hours of pretending you weren’t caught in each other’s orbit. It was late, the streets damp from a recent rain, the air thick with something unspoken.

“you can’t keep doing this,” you murmured, voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic.

daniela blinked at you, as if she didn’t understand, as if this wasn’t the hundredth time she had left you on the edge of something you weren’t sure you could survive. “doing what?” her voice was soft, but it carried weight.

you let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “pulling me in just to keep pushing me away.”

she didn’t answer right away. she just stared at you, lips slightly parted, something unreadable flickering in her brown eyes. you had seen this look before- the hesitation, the conflict. the part of her that wanted you and the part of her that refused to let herself have you.

“i never meant to—”

“don’t,” you cut her off, sharper than you intended. “don’t lie to me, daniela.”

her mouth snapped shut, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your own breathing, the pounding of your heart against your ribs.

you wanted to walk away, to finally be the one who left first. but then her fingers twitched at her side, hesitating, before reaching for yours.

it was the softest touch. barely anything at all.

and you hated yourself for letting it break you.

daniela never let anyone too close. you had known that from the start.

she carried herself like someone who had learned to be careful, someone who knew that closeness was a risk. and yet, with you, she always let the line blur—just enough to keep you hoping.

she called you late at night when she couldn’t sleep. she let her gaze linger a second too long when she thought you wouldn’t notice. she let her fingers trace absent patterns on your wrist, your palm, your shoulder—like she was memorizing you without ever claiming you.

but she never let it become something real.

“you say you don’t want this,” you said one night, “but you act like you do.”

daniela exhaled slowly, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “i—” she stopped, shaking her head. “i don’t know how to want something and not be afraid of losing it.”

your chest tightened. “so instead, you make sure you lose it before it can hurt you?”

silence.

and then, softer: “maybe.”

she never gave you enough to stay, but she never let you go either.

it wasn’t one thing that finally broke you. it was everything.

the nights waiting for her to decide. the way she pulled away every time you got too close. the way she looked at you like you were the only person in the room, but then pretended it didn’t mean anything.

“i can’t do this anymore.”

the words fell from your lips before you could stop them.

daniela froze, her breath hitching. “what?”

your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “i can’t keep letting you take pieces of me if you’re never going to have all of me.”

something flickered in her expression—panic, fear. “i never meant to hurt you.”

“i know,” you whispered. “but that doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

she took a step toward you, but this time, you were the one who pulled away.

and it killed you to do it. because for all the ways daniela had hurt you, you still loved her.

you probably always would.

you waited for her to chase after you. you thought maybe this time, she would fight for you.

but she didn’t.

and that told you everything you needed to know. so you left.

for the first time, you left before she could.

and as you disappeared into the night, you wondered if daniela would finally understand what it felt like to be left behind.

maybe then, she would realize that she had always been the one who needed to stop running.

a/n: guys idk… was it okay?? i haven’t written in a while and i fee like i’m losing my sparkle 😭😭

[chimielie]

send flowers to my funeral

summary: Matsukawa x Reader. happy birthday FREAK

word count: 924

cw: no minors pls 🙏 suggestive content (scene starts immediately after mattsun and reader have finished having sex), no gendered terms or genitalia are mentioned but reader is pretty clearly. how do i put this delicately. getting fucked by him on the regular, fwb to lovers

a/n: my apologies for the incorrect characterization (mattsun and makki have a coffee table which is frankly unrealistic). also i insert a completely random rarepair headcanon with no context and then don’t expand at all

"My back hurts," you moan. "Get off me."

"One second," Issei says, his naked chest warm as his big body blankets you. "I'm tired."

"You're tired?" You can't even twist your neck up to look at him. You hope your tone betrays your incredulity.

"Well, I was the one doing all the work," he says, and you gasp indignantly.

"No, actually, get off of me!" You say. "All you have to do is," you back your hips up into his, where you're still connected. He groans, and you lose your train of thought for a split second. "You think those acrobatics are easy?"

"It was a mutual effort," he cedes. "Hey—"

"No," you say, aggravated. "I'm sore."

He shifts slightly, one thick forearm braced next to your head. You're bent over the arm of the couch, forehead almost touching the cushions. You say: "Okay, after I shower."

Showering together is one of those things you don't do, like kissing or staying the night. You'd put up emotional guards when you started doing whatever it is you and Issei do.

They hadn't worked, like, at all.

In the shower, you don't play music, just scrub yourself down and prod the red marks he'd left behind. On the hips, the chest, the ass. You never take long, afraid to use up his hot water or reveal something you don't mean to vis-à-vis the affinity for love songs you've developed.

After you've left the shower and the both of you drip water all over his covers, he puts the sheets in the laundry and pulls you back onto the couch, really on the couch this time, his feet up on the arm, his arms around you.

"It's my birthday today," he says suddenly, and you jolt. You hadn't known that. "My friends and I are gonna go for dinner. Come with?"

You stare at him with wide eyes.

"You should've told me, I would've been nicer to you," you say, still trying to wrap your head around the question he'd asked you.

"You're plenty nice to me," he laughs, "what are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?" You parrot. "Do your friends even know about me?"

"'Course," you feel one shoulder move in a shrug beneath you. "I told them about the time you faxed nudes to the mortuary.”

You’d been particularly proud of that feat, right up until he’d called you and you’d heard it in his very voice that you wouldn’t be walking the next day.

“Wow, I had no idea that was what made me stand out,” you laugh. “I don’t have any plans tonight, anyway. How many others have you invited?”

“Oh, it’s just the guys from high school,” he shrugs. “Kawa and Iwa always have some other volleyball addict strapped to their backs, so there’ll probably be a couple more, but I don’t really like parties.”

Issei is the most low-maintenance guy you know. You admire his ability to go with the flow, to let life wash over him and appreciate the ride.

“No, I meant how many of the others,” you gesture to yourself, a tiny movement. “Like me?”

“You’re the only person who’ll be there that I’ve had sex with, if that’s what you mean,” there’s a little smile on his face, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Crazy.”

“Didn’t you and Iwaizumi have a thing for a while?” You point out.

“Hooking up once in high school is not the same as having a thing,” he insists. His heartbeat is speeding up under your palm, you notice. Funny. “You and Iwaizumi, then. That’s it.”

“Huh.” You say, and then are quiet for a while. “Matsukawa, forgive me for asking—if this is weird—what are we?”

“I hate that you only call me Issei in bed,” he says.

“I called you that on the couch, like, an hour ago.”

“You know what I mean, don’t be difficult.”

“I am difficult,” you say. “I’m high-maintenance and I’m too much work for someone easygoing like you.”

“I like working on you,” he says, pinching your arm. “I like that you try to be low-maintenance ‘cause you think that’s what I want and you still take up half my day when you’re here and all my mind when you’re not.”

Your lips part, blown off-kilter by his sincerity.

“I think I’m trying to ask you to be official,” he finishes, “but I think I’m fucking it up.”

“You’re not,” you laugh, “don’t worry. I was just going to die if you asked me to come meet all your friends just as the one who faxed you nudes.”

“If you died, I’d do your funeral for free,” he promises. “Oh, shit! That’s what I forgot.”

He shoves you away rather unceremoniously and you struggle to catch your breath on the couch in the few seconds he’s gone.

Issei comes back, a cluster of flowers bundled in one hand, his hair sticking up on one side from lying on the couch. You’ve never seen something so handsome.

You sit up and kiss him before you think about it, his lips soft and warm and a little chapped under yours. For all the time you’ve spent with him, it has the same clumsy charm as any first kiss with someone new, the sparking romance as metal strikes against itself. His cheeks are hot under your hands when you pull away.

“It should’ve been me giving you a birthday gift,” you say softly. “Thank you, Issei.”

(The two of you are late to dinner.)

[harrysfolklore]

So since the Oscars are happening next week I wanted to ask if you could please write something about charles leclerc and actress!reader where she's been nominated many many times before but never won (kind of like saoirse ronan) but this time she finally breaks the curse and win her first Oscar and Charles being just proud husband

u know you can always count on me for a charles x famous!reader fic and honestly i loved this one 🥺 i hope you like ittt

The Dolby Theatre buzzes with anticipation as you sit between Charles and your co-star. This scene is familiar - the sixth time you've been nominated, the same butterfly-inducing wait during the Best Actress category. Your first nomination came when you were just twenty-three, and now at thirty, you've earned the title of 'most nominated actress without a win.'

Charles has been there for four of those nominations, watching you smile gracefully through each loss. You remember how devastated he was last year - more than you, even - when you lost for what critics had called 'the performance of the decade.' He'd held you all night, whispering about how the Academy didn't deserve you anyway.

Tonight, though, feels different. Maybe it's the way Charles keeps pressing soft kisses to your temple, or how he hasn't stopped playing with your wedding ring - a nervous habit he picked up during particularly tense races.

"Mon coeur," he whispers as the Best Actor category wraps up, "no matter what happens, you're already the winner in my eyes. But tonight... tonight feels like magic, no?"

You're gripping Charles's hand so tightly you might be cutting off his circulation, but he doesn't seem to mind. Your heart is pounding as Emma Stone opens the envelope on stage, the same way it has during the previous ceremonies where you'd left empty-handed despite the nominations.

Charles leans closer, his lips brushing your ear. "I'm proud of you, no matter what happens," he whispers, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your hand.

"And the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Leading Role goes to..."

Charles's grip tightens imperceptibly. You feel him holding his breath alongside you.

"YN!"

For a moment, you're frozen. The applause sounds distant, like you're underwater. Then you feel Charles's hands on your face, see his beaming smile through your blur of tears.

"You did it, mon coeur!" he exclaims, his own eyes glistening as he pulls you into a kiss. "You finally did it!"

You're trembling as you stand, Charles helping you up. He's looking at you the way he does after winning a race - no, even more intensely than that. Like you've just won every championship in existence.

The walk to the stage feels surreal. You can hear the announcement echoing: "This is YN's sixth nomination and first win..." Through your tears, you see the standing ovation, catch glimpses of familiar faces who've been on this journey with you.

Your hands shake as you accept the Oscar, its weight both foreign and familiar after years of dreaming about this moment. You take a deep breath, looking out at the sea of faces until you find those green eyes that have been your anchor through every high and low.

"Wow," you begin, your voice trembling. "They say sixth time's the charm, right?" The audience laughs warmly. "I've had this speech written in my head since I was a little girl playing pretend with my mom's hairbrush, but now that I'm here, those words don't seem enough."

You pause, gathering yourself. "To the Academy - thank you for not giving up on me. To my incredible director who trusted me with this role that scared me as much as it thrilled me. To my amazing co-stars who pushed me to dig deeper, be braver."

Your eyes find Charles again, who's watching you with such pure adoration it makes your heart swell. "To my husband, who has sat through more award shows than F1 races this year so far, who runs lines with me even though he says my accent is better than his, who believes in me more than I believe in myself - ti amu. You've watched me practice acceptance speeches in our kitchen, held me through the disappointments, and somehow made me feel like a winner every single time. You told me once that in racing, it's not about how many times you don't make the podium, it's about never stopping until you do. Well, my love, we finally made it to the top step."

You can see Charles openly crying now, nodding proudly through his tears. "To my parents who let their little girl dream big, to my team who've been with me through every 'maybe next year,' to every young actor who's been told 'not yet' - keep going. Your time will come."

Looking down at the golden statue in your hands, you smile through your tears. "And finally, to every person who's ever felt like they're always the runner-up, who's heard 'better luck next time' so many times they've lost count - this is for you. Because sometimes the longest waitings lead to the sweetest victories. Thank you, thank you so much."

Later, at the Vanity Fair after-party, Charles hasn't let go of your Oscar once. He's been carrying it around, showing it off more proudly than any of his race trophies.

"My wife," he keeps saying to everyone who'll listen, his accent thick with emotion, "she's brilliant, no? I told everyone she would win. I knew it."

"Charles," you laugh, watching him polish the statue with his pocket square for the third time. "You're going to wear it out."

"Non, I'm protecting it. It's very precious." He looks at you with those soft green eyes. "Like you."

You lean into his side, feeling the familiar warmth of his arm around your waist. "You know what this means, right? Now we both have something gold to polish obsessively."

He chuckles, finally setting the Oscar down to pull you closer. "Oui, but unlike my trophies, this one was a long time coming." His expression softens. "You deserved this years ago, mon coeur."

"Well," you say, straightening his bowtie, "someone once told me that the sweetest victories are the ones you have to fight for."

"Sounds like a wise man," he grins.

"He's alright," you tease. "Bit of a show-off though. Keeps trying to steal my Oscar's spotlight."

Charles laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Never. Tonight is all yours, my love. Though..." he adds with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I might need to win another race soon. Can't have you being the only champion in the household."

You reach up to wipe a smudge of your lipstick from his cheek. "Race you to the next gold trophy?"

"Deal," he says softly, pulling you into a proper kiss. "But you've already won the most important race."

"Oh? Which one is that?"

His smile is tender as he touches his forehead to yours. "The race to my heart."

"That was terrible," you laugh, but you're already pulling him closer.

"Terrible but true," he murmurs against your lips. "Now, shall we go home? I need to practice my 'proud husband watching his wife's Oscar-winning performance' face for when we rewatch your movie for the hundredth time."

"You love that movie."

"I love you," he corrects.

And as you watch him carefully wrap your award in his suit jacket for the journey home, you think that maybe this victory is sweeter than you imagined - not because of the golden statue, but because of the golden heart beside you who never stopped believing it would happen.

[emsdevs]

Outfit Advice (Hughes Bros.)

a/n: i was talking to kirby about this the other night and i had to put it out there! enjoy in these trying times 🤧

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Multiplayer Headcanons

Jack:

If you ask Jack’s opinion on an outfit, I hope you’re not looking for complete honesty. Okay, so that’s not entirely true, but his version of honesty is a little different. He’s gonna tell you EXACTLY what he thinks of your outfit, except this man is a SIMP. The only thing he’ll ever say about your outfit or your makeup or hair is how good it looks because it’s on YOU. Poor guy thinks you can make anything look good, and as unhelpful as it can be, it’s really sweet, so how mad can you be? Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have a brutally honest brother in the room down the hall.

“Hey, Jacky, does this look okay?”

“Oh my god, pretty girl. You make that look so good. I’ll never understand how you do it. So beautiful, baby. I don’t know how I bagged you,” he kisses your temple and walks out with a smile on his face.

“Luke!” you shout. “What do I need to fix?”

Luke:

Luke, I fear, is brutally honest. Hopefully, your feelings don’t get hurt easily because he’ll straight up tell you if something looks bad. He’s making his way to your closet to give you better options. Actually, he probably knows every article of clothing that’s in your closet. He’d be able to rattle off better options like it was nothing. It’s not even a control thing, either! He just wants you to look good and feel confident, and he’d never let you out of the house knowing you’d catch a glimpse of your outfit in a mirror or something and wish you could go home and change. It’s just one of the many ways he’d take care of you.

“Luke, baby, does this outfit look okay?”

“That top does not match those pants, babe. That one black skirt you have would look good, but if you wear it, you gotta change your shoes too.”

“The tight skirt or the pleated?”

“The flowy one that fans out when you spin.”

“So the pleated one?”

“I guess. How am I supposed to know what that means?” 

Quinn:

Quinn is somewhere in between Jack and Luke. He’s never gonna miss any opportunity to tell you how pretty you are, but he’s also gonna give actual advice. He can tell when you just want a compliment because you know your outfit looks good and when you genuinely need advice because you aren’t sure you like the outfit. He’ll take a moment to hype you up, but then he’ll get down to business with helping you out. Rest assured, he’s gonna be super sweet about it, too. He’s speaking in the softest, gentlest voice, making sure he doesn’t make you feel bad about anything.

“Quinn, does this look okay? Or should I change?”

“You always look so beautiful, honey. How about that light pink dress you have though? The one with spaghetti straps that falls right above your knee? I think you wore it to a team baby shower a while back. That one looked so good on you, and it’ll match the makeup you already have done.” He’s standing behind you while you look into a mirror. His hands are resting on your hips, and he’s speaking softly into your ear, taking breaks every few words so he can plant a kiss on the curve of your shoulder.

“Ooh, yeah, I forgot about that dress! Thanks, Q!”

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[sixpennydame]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞.

𝑳𝒆𝒗𝒊 𝑨𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 // .6k words

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Possessive!Levi. Sexually explicit content - minors do not interact.

𝐀/𝐍: Written for this anon ask. Based on the song, R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys

Captain Levi pisses you off.

How can he be sitting across the table from you, listening to Erwin go on and on about Survey Corps funding.

As if he hadn’t been fucking your brains out last night in this very room.

His eyes haven’t even glanced your way since you sat down. Had it all been just an elaborate dream?

No, you know for a fact it wasn’t. You have the kiss marks on your breasts to prove it.

Your mind wanders to the moments Levi had you spread out on this table, his tongue - walls, his magnificent tongue - drawing slow, lethargic circles around your throbbing clit. When you came the first time, he’d looked at you smugly.

“Such a dirty girl, letting me have my way with you here. Aren’t you afraid somebody will catch us?” He asked, undoing the belt of his pants.

“Aren’t you?”

“Not really.” He settled himself between your thighs. “And you’re not going anywhere until I’m completely satisfied.”

Now, sitting amongst your fellow Survey Corps members, that satisfaction feels like a distant memory.

“…Captain Levi, your report.” Erwin’s voice bellows through the meeting hall.

Levi’s chair scrapes across the floor and he stands. You allow your line of sight to flit towards him. His body weight shifts from one leg to the other and your eyes can’t help but move down the contours of his shirt to the waistband of his pants. Your mouth starts to water as you think about how it felt to have his cock in your mouth, his hand in your hair as he thrust a little deeper, seeing how much of him you could take.

“The thrust formation seemed to be effective—“

Wait…

What is Levi talking about?

“—during our last expedition. It allowed my squad and I to move in easily.”

You blink and take a breath. Now everything Levi says in that beautiful baritone voice of his is turning you on.

Get yourself together.

You spend the rest of the meeting looking everywhere but in Levi’s direction. The time drags on as each Squad Leader gives their report, and you begin to wish you could be anywhere else but this room with this man. When the meeting ends and the room is empty, you breathe a sigh of relief.

Until you hear the door close behind you.

“Are you trying to avoid me all day?” a familiar baritone voice asks.

You stand, determined to give him your most nonchalant face. “I should ask you that question. You didn’t look at me once during that meeting.”

Levi quickly closes the distance between you until you bump against the edge of the table. “What? Did you want me to take you again on this table in front of everyone? Such an exhibitionist.”

Just being this close to him again has your core throbbing. His hands land on either side of you, caging you between him and the table as he moves even closer, his lips brushing your earlobe.

“No…” you weakly answer, quickly turning to putty in his hands, “it’s just…”

All coherent thoughts leave you as he begins to pepper kisses along your neck, leaving you speechless.

“Do you want me to tell you that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night? That the meeting was torture because all I could see was you?” His hands move up the curves of your waist and he lets out a sigh. “I want to see the marks I made on you.”

Buttons and straps come undone as he releases your breasts. His eyes flash when he sees the purple bruises.

“Tell me, y/n,” his voice is a low growl that sends electricity through your whole body, “tell me you’re mine.”

Do you dare tell him that you’ve been his since the moment you first laid eyes on him? Do you confess that you’d given your body to him before his hands and lips had even claimed you?

Instead, you look deep into those silvery blue eyes and whisper -

“Yes…yes, Levi. I’m yours.”

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[imsofreakingtired]

Hi! First of all, I love your work so much, you have me crying and kicking my feet at the same time.

I'd like to put in a request for a plus-sized reader? If that's something you can do. Something about yearning from afar? She's so sweet and Sev's so not. She's worried she'd taint the pure soul she watches from across the bar only to find out the lamb wants the wolf just as bad.

(I low-key just want some plus-sized rep :/)

SUCH A CUTE REQ AAA also, “the lamb wants the wolf just as bad” WHAT A LINE HELLO??? i hope i did it justice 🙏

i wish i found love

content warning(s): none! just fluff, mutual pining, useless lesbians, mild suggestive content, happy ending

"sometimes i wonder if you'll ever let me in i wonder if i'm ever gonna find somebody i cry and i cry and i cry and i cry out to the heavens why won't you just send me somebody?"

Sevika is sure she is going insane. 

She’d be lying if she said you didn’t catch her eye the moment you walked into the Last Drop that one night. There was something about the way you moved, the ringing song of your laughter that found its way across the room to her ears—a sound she desperately tried to ignore as she scowled down at her card game, puffing away at her third cigarette. She had lost two rounds in a row because she was straining for scraps of the conversation you were in. Trying every possible subtle tactic to find out who you were, where you came from. Cursing the noises of a late night bar that drowned out what you were saying. 

Tonight is like most—there you are, sitting with a new companion on the other side of the bar, perfectly manicured nails tapping idly on the side of your glass as you give the other person a winning smile. When you stand up to order a second drink, Sevika watches your movements and swallows hard. You’re wearing a blouse and pants that hug your figure, showing off every curve in the shifting neon lights of the Last Drop. Making the very air around you look expensive. 

And your eyes. Fathomless yet bright. The innocent curl of your lips when you give the lucky bastard across the table one of those smiles. The secrets sitting in the corners of your mouth. 

Who is she?

“Hey chief,” says Grems, one of her gambling mates. “You’re showin’ all your cards.” 

She glances at him. “Round’s over.” 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me. Clear out.” 

The men exchange glances with one another, but they obey, grabbing up their winnings. Sevika sits back in her chair and lights another cigarette. 

✨—✨

At the bar, you lean closer and beckon to Chuck. He comes over, glancing nervously in Sevika’s direction. Everyone can already see that Sevika has claimed you as hers—they can see the way she watches you, the way she raises her head to attention when she sees you come into the bar. But when he looks over at Sevika, she turns her head away. 

“Chuck,” you say. “Don’t look so scared. She’s staring at me again, isn’t she?” 

“Uh…” 

You give him the irresistible smile you throw at strangers from whom you need information. He falls for it. 

“C’mon, tell me. Who is she?” 

“She…she’s Silco’s right hand,” he stammers. “You know. The Brute.” 

You sigh impatiently. “Gotta give me better than that. What’s her name.” 

“Sevika.” 

“Sevika,” you muse. “Thanks, Chuck.” You pat him on the shoulder and take your drink. You make sure to walk the long way round back to your table, and you can feel Sevika’s grey eyes burn in front of you. Just as you pass her, you tilt your head and let your eyes make contact with hers. Time seems to slow down. She looks at you cooly through the cigarette smoke, but her surprise shows in the way her brows lift slightly. 

Then the moment passes, you sit back down at your table. 

Your companion continues the conversation, but you barely hear a third of what they’re saying. Your thoughts keep wandering over to Sevika, who has left her tab on her table and now disappeared up the stairs. You know for sure she’s interested—she’s been watching you since you first began to frequent the Last Drop—why hasn’t she made a move? 

✨—✨

The truth is that Sevika is scared to approach you. 

That’s right, she thinks to herself, a wry smile on her face as she leans back into the couch in her empty apartment, slightly sweaty after touching herself to you, heart racing in her chest. Sevika of the fucking fissures, scared to talk to a woman as if she's some adolescent. 

She has borne the title Brute of the Underground like an afterthought, something she took for granted, a kind of placard to frame over the blood on her hands. But now it feels like a curse or a jinx, because she can’t think of your soft skin without thinking of the roughness of her own. She wants to feel your body against hers, she wants to kneel and drown in your sweet scent. But then she thinks of your laugh. The way you smile, nose wrinkling. 

How could she ever deserve to receive a smile like that? 

She imagines you recoiling from her, disgust clouding your pretty features. She imagines herself, massive and clumsy—nothing but muscle and scars and callused skin. She compares herself to you in a fantasized mirror and she can’t see a possibility of you ever wanting her the way she wants you. 

One night she is at her usual table, alone for once, making adjustments to her mechanical arm. A glass of whiskey sits among the tools and ashtray. She looks up listlessly as she takes a sip, returns to her work. When she looks up again you’re standing in front of her. 

Sevika nearly chokes. You’ve caught her off-guard, and you can see it. You can’t help but smile at her obvious embarrassment. 

“Mind me sitting here?” 

Without waiting for a reply, you sit down across from her.  

“I work nearby,” you say matter-of-factly. “I was thinking since you come here often as well, maybe we could have a drink together every now and then.” 

“Uh,” says Sevika. 

“Name’s Sevika, right? I’ve gotta run now, but can I claim you tomorrow night?” 

“Um.” 

You take that as a yes. As you walk by her, she can smell the sweet scent of your hair. She doesn’t see the triumphant smile on your face as you leave the bar. She also realizes too late that she never got your name. 

✨—✨

-> thank you @practicalgauntlet for the request! -> dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

[rafes-slut]

You marked his back with your nails pretty bad

Pairing: Cocky!Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: explicit content, rough/intense smut, scratching, possessiveness, toxic dynamics, mentions of arguments, morning-after intimacy.

Summary: after having argument you make it up only way you know. Rough sex. So when you wake up next morning and find his back all red and scratched from how hard you went. Only for him to love it.

-----

The first thing you register is warmth. Not just the soft, golden hue of the morning sun breaking through the blinds, but the heat radiating from the body beside you. Rafe. His skin, bare and warm, pressed against yours beneath the tangled sheets. Your limbs feel heavy, the lingering exhaustion from last night still weighing on you, but there’s something else too—a soreness between your thighs, a faint ache in your muscles, a reminder of how things unfolded after that argument.

You shift slightly, turning to face him, and that’s when you see it.

His back.

Your breath catches for a moment as your eyes trace over the angry red marks slashed across his tanned skin. Deep, raw, and unmistakable—the aftermath of your nails dragging down his back, your body clinging to his as he fucked you through your frustration, through every unspoken word and every unresolved fight. The scratches stand out starkly against his skin, fresh and undeniable proof of just how wild last night had been.

You bite your lip, feeling a mix of pride and guilt. You hadn’t even realized you were digging in that hard, but looking at the way the marks line his back, there’s no doubt you claimed him in some way.

Rafe stirs beside you, shifting slightly before letting out a low, sleepy groan. His voice is thick with sleep, muffled against the pillow as he speaks.

"Mmm… you awake?"

He’s still half-asleep, his face turned towards you but his eyes barely open. Without thinking, he leans in, pressing a lazy, drowsy kiss against your shoulder, his lips soft and warm against your skin.

You hesitate before speaking, your fingers lightly grazing over one of the red streaks down his back. "Rafe…"

He hums in response, not fully awake yet.

"You should see what I did to your back," you murmur, running your fingers along another set of scratches. "It looks bad."

That wakes him up.

Rafe shifts onto his side, cracking one eye open as a slow, lazy smirk spreads across his lips. "Yeah?" His voice is still rough with sleep, but there’s amusement in it now. "You worried about me, sweetheart?"

You roll your eyes, but the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you. "I didn’t realize I went that hard."

Rafe finally opens both eyes, his gaze dark and amused as he watches you. Then, without warning, he flips onto his stomach again, stretching his arms above his head, completely unbothered as he settles back against the mattress. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," you admit, tracing one of the deeper marks with your fingertip. "Like… I might’ve actually hurt you."

Rafe chuckles, and the sound is low and smug. "You didn’t hurt me." He turns his head slightly, giving you a lopsided grin. "I like it."

Your stomach tightens at his words.

"You like it?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

He nods lazily, completely unashamed. "Hell yeah. It means I fucked you good enough to make you lose control." He glances over his shoulder at you, his smirk widening. "That’s kinda hot, don’t you think?"

You huff, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. If anything, his words send a rush of heat straight to your core.

Rafe must notice because his smirk turns more devilish as he pushes himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching over to tug you closer. You don’t resist as he pulls you against him, his lips brushing against your collarbone before he trails them up to your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Next time," he murmurs against your throat, "maybe you should leave them somewhere I can actually see them."

Your breath hitches, and you hate the way your body immediately responds to him, how the heat from last night still lingers between you. But that’s just how it always is with Rafe. The fights, the passion, the way you always come back together in the most intense, all-consuming way.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 21

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, arguments, hurt.

Nick and I stand there, frozen.

My stomach drops to my ass.

Christina is in Matt’s bed.

Fast asleep, wrapped up in his sheets like she belongs there. It reminds me of when I stayed in his bed in the house.

How could he allow her to do the same.

I feel Nick tense beside me, he's silent but I can almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, like he’s piecing together the same horrifying realization I am.

Then the ensuite door swings open.

And out walks Matt.

Messy hair. Shirtless. Sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Looks like she helped him out last night instead.

The second he looks up, our eyes meet.

And everything inside me stops.

Nick moves first, he could never be silent for that long. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Matt’s mouth parts slightly, but Nick doesn’t give him the chance.

“Seriously?” he seethes, stepping forward. His voice is a dangerous mix of betrayal and anger. “You fucking lied to me. To her.” His arm motions toward me, but I can’t move. I can’t even breathe.

Matt tries to speak.

But Nick gives him no mercy.

“I don’t wanna hear it!” he snaps, his voice rising. “I don’t wanna hear a single fucking word come out of your mouth right now.”

Matt’s face hardens, but he stays silent.

Nick scoffs. “You had one thing to prove, Matt. That you meant it this time.” He shakes his head. “And you couldn’t even do that.”

I can’t stand here anymore.

I need to be in my room. So I turn and leave the room.

Not fast. Not slow. I honestly feel like I'm floating.

I can hear Nick’s voice from down the hall, and he's not letting up easy.

“You either care about her or you don’t, Matt.” His words cut through the thick, suffocating silence.

“So which is it?”

I don’t hear Matt’s answer.

Because I don’t think I could handle it.

Nick’s POV

Y/n turns and walks away, and I don’t blame her.

I watch her go, watch the way her arms wrap around herself like she’s holding herself together, like she has to hold herself together because Matt sure as fuck won’t.

But I’m not done.

Not even close.

I turn back to Matt, still standing there like a fucking idiot, like he’s the one blindsided.

“You’ve gotta be fucking joking.” I breathe, the disbelief thick in my voice.

Matt doesn’t even try to defend himself.

Maybe he knows there’s no excuse.

Maybe he just doesn’t have one.

Matt motions me out of the bedroom before closing the door behind him, the two of us stood in the hallway.

“What, I might wake your precious Christina?” I sneer, pointing at the door. “Wouldn’t wanna interrupt her beauty sleep, huh?”

Matt exhales sharply. “It’s not like that.”

I laugh. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

He shakes his head, but I don’t soften.

“I’m so disgusted with you.” I shutter. “I thought you would be real this time. That if you were serious about Y/n, you’d to fucking act like it.”

Matt clenches his jaw. “Nick-”

“And what do you do?” I cut him off. “You self sabotage. Again. Like you always fucking do. Because you never know how to handle something real.”

Matt’s eyes darken.

I don’t care.

I take another step forward. “And Y/n?” I point a finger toward the door she just walked toward. “She’s the realest thing you’re ever gonna get. And you know that.”

He drops his gaze for a second, but it’s long enough for me to see it.

Guilt.

Good.

“You know it” I repeat, voice quieter but my tone stays the same. “And you just threw it away.”

Matt opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, a door behind me swings open.

“Jesus Christ” Chris groans, stepping into the hall. He looks half asleep, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Can you two shut the fuck up? Rachel’s asleep in my room.”

I whip around. “Oh, of course she is!” I snap. “So what, you’ve got a girl in your bed too?”

Chris blinks at me, like he wasn’t expecting that reaction. “What?”

I throw my hands up.  “Seriously, who the fuck thought it’d be a good idea to bring girls out here?” 

I don’t care who hears me.

I don’t care if I wake up the entire goddamn villa.

Chris shrugs, unfazed. “I did?” looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“The fuck are you freaking out about?” he scoffs. “I like Rachel, so I flew her out. I can do that, you know.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh yeah? And you think that was a good fucking idea?”

Chris crosses his arms. “Why the fuck wouldn’t it be?”

“Because look at what you just caused!” I snap, throwing a hand back toward Matt’s door. “You might not have been the fire, but you sure as fuck were the fuel.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being real.” I hiss, stepping closer. “I want them out. Within the next two hours. I don’t give a fuck what needs to be done. I want them gone.”

Chris’ expression hardens. “That’s unfair.”

I shake my head. “Unfair?” I scoff. “You wanna talk about unfair? Y/n spent this whole trip thinking her and Matt were finally on the same fucking page, and now she walks in to find Christina, of all fucking people, in his bed? And you wanna stand there and act like I’m being unfair?

Chris opens his mouth, as Matt stands awkwardly next to me.

Chris locks eyes with him.

“Wait, what?” Chris’s brow furrows. “She’s in your bed?”

Matt still doesn’t say a word.

Chris shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ, man.”

I shake my head in complete disgust, looking between the two of them.

“The two of you are fucking idiots” I say, my voice filled with nothing but disappointment. “Absolute fucking idiots.”

Chris exhales sharply, rubbing a hand down his face, while Matt just stands there, still not saying a goddamn word.

I don’t have the patience for this. Not right now.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and storm down the hallway, heading straight for Y/n’s room on the other side of the villa. My blood is boiling, not just at Matt but at Chris too. They both fucked up, and they both know it.

As I walk away, I hear Chris let out a frustrated sigh before opening his door and stepping into his room.

Matt?

I don’t hear him move at all.

I get to Y/n’s room and try the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. It’s locked.

I sigh, knocking gently. “Y/n, it’s just me.”

A few seconds pass, and then I hear the soft click of the lock. The door opens, and there she is, completely wrecked, her eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down her face. My chest tightens at the sight of her.

“Ah no Y/n.” I mutter, stepping in without hesitation.

Before she can say a word, I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her tightly. The second she buries her face into my chest, she breaks, her sobs shaking her whole body. I squeeze her tighter, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“He’s an idiot” I tell her. “A fucking idiot.”

She doesn’t respond, just keeps crying, and I hold her through it.

After a minute, I guide her over to the bed, and we settle in. She wipes at her face, sniffling, and I wait, letting her take her time.

Finally, I ask, “What happened last night?”

Y/n takes a deep breath, wiping at her damp cheeks before finally looking up at me. Her voice is quiet, shaky.

“It was fine at first” she starts. “Obviously I was so happy for you, then you’s got up and left after Chris did.” She trails off, taking another breath.

“Then Chris came back with them.”

I already know exactly who she means.

“Christina and Rachel” I say, and she nods, pressing her lips together like even saying the name makes her sick.

“Chris kinda insinuated to Matt about them two catching up.. Nate and I felt awkward, so we went and did two shots and when we came back Matt and Chris were gone, it was just Rachel and Christina in the booth.” She says, staring blankly across the room.

“I mean, I knew things had happened between them before, but Matt told me.. he told me he hadn’t been with anyone since..” She pauses, blinking rapidly, like she’s trying to stop fresh tears from falling. “Since that night in the house. And Vegas was after that, so I didn’t think, I hoped, nothing happened. But the second she started talking, I just knew.”

She clenches her fists in her lap, shaking her head.

“She was smug. She kept making these little comments, insinuating that they were a thing. And when I asked her outright how Vegas was, she just smirked and said “WhAt HaPpEnS iN vEgAs StAyS iN vEgas.”

My jaw tightens.

“That was it for me” she says. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I knew if I stayed, I’d just get more upset, and I didn’t want to make a scene. I just needed to leave.”

She looks at me with tired, blood shot eyes.

“Nate asked if I was okay, and I told him it was just a weird situation, but.. the truth is, it wasn’t just weird. It hurt.” She pauses. “I don’t think anything happened in Vegas.. Well, I didn’t. But the fact that she’s still here, still acting like she has some claim over him, and the fact that he-” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard before continuing. “That he let it happen? That he didn’t even try to stop it? It just made me feel like a fool.”

I shake my head, anger building in my chest.

“You’re not a fool.” I tell her firmly. “He is.”

She gives me a weak smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Me and Nate ended up leaving then, he didn’t want to stay either” she says. “I didn’t even say goodbye to Matt, but at that point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be away from it all.”

I nod. “Was anything said at all?”

She sighs. “Nope, when we got back to the villa. I checked my phone, hoping stupidly that maybe Matt had messaged me. I know he’d seen I left. I just hoped that he’d care.”

Her voice wavers on those last two words, and I clench my fists.

“But there was nothing” she whispers. “Not a single message. Not a bit of concern. And I just, got so angry because I knew why I was angry. Because I care. Because I have feelings for him.”

She blinks, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“So I turned my phone off and went to bed, hoping that if I slept, the night would be over faster.”

I take a deep breath, letting everything she just told me sink in. I already was mad, but now? Now I’m fucking fuming.

I run a hand through my hair, shaking my head. “I'm going to say it again, but Matt’s a fucking idiot” I mutter.

She lets out a small, sad laugh. “Yeah. He is.”

I pull her in again, letting her rest against me.

I let out a deep sigh, rubbing my face. “I feel awful for not being there for you last night” I admit, my voice heavy with guilt.

Y/n immediately shakes her head. “No, don’t feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were living your life which you deserve, you were oblivious to everything.” She sniffles.

I lean my head back against the headboard, exhaling sharply. “Well, this whole situation has officially shocked me into being completely sober.”

That earns a small giggle from her, and I smile, relieved to see even the tiniest bit of light return to her eyes.

I tilt my head, looking at her. “Do you want me to stay in here for a bit?”

She hesitates for a second before shaking her head. “No, I think I’d like to be on my own for a little while.”

I nod, respecting her space. “Okay. But if you need anything, I mean it, Y/n, just come get me. I don’t care what time it is.”

She gives me a grateful smile. “Thanks, Nick.”

I squeeze her hand one last time before getting up, heading for the door. Before I step out, I glance back at her, still curled up in bed, her eyes staring off at nothing.

I want to fix this for her. I want to fix Matt. But for now, the only thing I can do is be here for her.

So I leave her room, closing the door gently behind me, and head to my own.

Y/n’s POV

I drag myself off of my bed to  push open the balcony door, letting the early morning air into my room. I feel like I’m suffocating in here, like the walls are closing in on me.

I crawl back into bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing and everything all at once. Numbness settles over me, and I let it. I don’t know how long I lie there, my mind running in endless circles, but it must be at least an hour.

Then, faintly, I hear voices outside on the patio. My ears perk up at the low tones, one voice sharper than the other.

Nate and Chris.

I don’t move, barely breathing as I listen.

Nate’s voice is quiet, laced with disbelief. “I just don’t get it, man.”

Chris sighs. “What?”

“This whole thing. I came home with Y/n last night, and I thought-” He pauses, like he’s still processing it. “I thought Matt was different with her. That he actually gave a shit.”

Chris exhales, and I hear the scrape of a chair moving. “I don’t know what the fuck is going if I’m honest.”

Then followed by a pause.

“The girls are leaving soon” Chris says after a moment, his voice more certain. “I told them they have to go.”

Girls? So that means Rachel is in the villa, too.

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers into my temples. The thoughts of the four of them being in that booth all night. It’s not the four it should’ve been.

“Good” Nate finally says, though his voice is distant, still caught up in his thoughts. “That’s good.”

Neither of them says anything after that, just the occasional sound of movement. I don’t know what to do with any of this. Do I go back to sleep and pretend I didn’t hear? Do I stay curled up in bed and wait for them to leave?

I don’t know.

All I do know is that I don’t want to feel like this anymore.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I hear the girls voices outside, light and carefree, like they have no idea the storm they’ve left behind.

They laugh, saying their goodbyes, talking about how much fun they had. Christina’s voice is the loudest, going on about how this trip is "so needed." Rachel thanks Chris for having them over last night, her tone full of gratitude, like this was just some casual getaway and not the disaster it turned into.

“We’ll let you know when we’re back at our hotel” Rachel says smoothly.

Chris responds almost too casually, “Yeah, do that. Hopefully, we can meet later. One on one.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the sting in my chest. Of course. Of course, he’s already setting up another meetup, like none of this meant anything. Like bringing them here, ruining everything, was just some minor inconvenience.

How long are they even here for?

I hear the shuffle of movement. I hear Christina giggle, making some passing comment about how wild the night was, and then the sound of the front door closing.

They’re gone.

But the mess they left behind? That’s still here.

I should feel relieved, but all I feel is exhausted.

I don’t move from my bed for the rest of the day. Not for food, not for water. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything settle over me. My mind replays every moment, every touch, every look, every promise Matt ever gave me.

Was it all fake?

Did he ever mean any of it?

Or was his plan to play with me all along?

I feel stupid. Completely and utterly stupid. I let myself believe in something real. I let myself believe in him. And now, I’m left here, in this bed, in this villa, drowning in the realization that I was just another girl to him. Another meaningless moment in his never ending cycle of self sabotage.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. I’ve cried enough.

Instead, I just lay here. Empty.

Four more days in this place. Four more days of agony, of being in the same space as Matt, of pretending I don’t care when it’s eating me alive. Within the last 10 days, everything felt different, full of excitement, possibility. Now, it feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.

It’s confusing. All of it. The way he looked at me before, the way he made me feel like I mattered. And now? Now he’s just another person who’s shown me that words mean nothing. That promises are empty.

But one thing is clear.

I don’t want to speak to Matt again.

a/n : GET HIM NICK GET HIM (dw any questions you may have will be answered)

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[humanjarvis]

my happy is your happy

synopsis: luke thinks sylus should make more friends. but does he really need them?

tags: fluff, kinda comfort?, unintentional family dynamics (idk what came over me i didn’t expect that to happen), potential unrealistic use of sylus’s evol bc what does “energy manipulation” even mean, reader is protective of sylus, sylus overhears, asterisks to denote pov shifts bc i didn't want to use dividers pairing: sylus x reader word count: 774

a/n: it’s been like 2 days of people calling sylus a friendless loser on twitter and that’s fine but IIIII don’t think ur a loser, sylus. wrote this on a whim in the last 2 hours, questionably proofread

“Have you ever noticed that Boss doesn’t have any friends?” Luke’s youthful voice rings out, putting a swift end to your peaceful night of reading on the couch. 

Folding your half-finished book over your lap, you look up at his masked face, raising an eyebrow. “He has you.” 

Luke scoffs. “I don’t count, obviously.”

“He has Kieran.”

“We’re practically the same person. Try again,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.

“…He has Mephisto,” you offer, an innocent grin on your face. 

He doesn’t even dignify that one with a response. 

“He's still in his 20s, for God’s sake! Don’t you think he should go out more? Party a little, meet some new people?” Luke asks, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“Not if he doesn’t think he needs to,” you say simply. 

*** 

Sylus had just stepped out of the shower when he overheard your tired voice from the living room. Not if I don’t think I need to…what? he ponders, mulling over the possibilities. Increase their monthly allowance? Install lasers into Mephisto’s eyes? Entrust Onychinus to the twins in my will?

“But no friends?” Luke asks dramatically, snapping Sylus out of his thoughts. “None? Not even one?”

Oh, Sylus thinks. That. 

Realizing you were defending his…comfortable lifestyle, Sylus feels something warm and tight and slightly wistful squeeze in his chest. Smiling to himself, he shrouds his body in the dark wisps of his Evol and moves closer, watching the rest of your conversation with interest. 

*** 

Exasperated, you run a hand through your hair. “Luke, I think you’re overthinking this. Not everyone wants to go out and party and meet people. What about Sylus makes you think he wants to go out and party and meet people? You put him in a room full of cheap club music and cheaper beer, and he’s going to evaporate into thin air. Or cause a mass casualty incident,” you say, only to be met with silence. 

Sighing, you start again. “Look, I understand that you care about him and want to make sure he’s happy—I do too—but Sylus’s happy isn’t Luke’s happy. It isn’t Kieran’s happy, or Mephisto’s happy, or even my happy. It’s his. He’s the only one who can decide what makes him happy, and he’s the only one who can decide if he is or not.”

When Luke’s mask droops—a telltale sign of a pout appearing—you switch tactics. “And maybe it’s not that he doesn’t have friends. Maybe you guys are just enough for him—did you ever think about that?” 

At this, the beak of his mask perks back up, and you know you’ve got him. 

“You think we’re…enough for him?” he asks, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You nod. 

And then you try to ignore the way his hands twitch in excitement, fighting with all you have to keep your giggle from surfacing. 

“That’s…” he clears his throat. “You know what? You’re right, Y/N, my bad. You’re really smart, you know,” Luke responds gruffly, an incriminating wobble in his voice. 

Smiling, you stand up to pat his hooded head. “I know.” 

“Well,” he starts, a new vigor in his steps as he heads toward the door. “I’m gonna go find Kieran. We just got this huge shipment of explosives that w—”

“Nope!” you interrupt. “You’re not getting me in trouble again. The less I know, the better.”

Shrugging, Luke disappears into the hallway, and you shake your head fondly. 

“What a heartwarming conversation,” a deep voice rings out. 

Jumping from shock, you whip your head around. “Sylus?!” you whisper-yell. “How long have you been there?!”

Emerging from the shadows of the bedroom behind you, Sylus strolls toward you, a soft smirk on his face. 

“Just long enough to hear your passionate defense of me,” he quips, wrapping an arm around your waist. “How much is your lawyer fee?”

Embarrassed, you swat his chest, bowing your head slightly. “I know he meant well, but I just…don’t like it when people try to take your life out of your hands,” you admit quietly. “It makes me sad.” 

“Well we can’t have that, can we, kitten?” he rumbles, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Let me cheer you up—I very much enjoyed hearing you speak up for me.”

Lifting your head up, you look into his warm garnet eyes. “You did?” 

“Mm,” he hums, pulling you closer. “I do hate cheap beer, and you all are enough for me. You know me very well,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“But for all your expertise, you were wrong about one thing,” he whispers against you. “My happy is your happy.”

[arxiwon]

Falling Through the Cracks | sjy

Pairing: Jake Sim x Reader Genre: Angst, Tragedy, Heavy Heartbreak Warnings: Emotional cheating, miscommunication, regret, angst with no comfort, terminal illness, major character death Synopsis: You and Jake were supposed to have forever. But forever was never promised.

The first time you met Jake Sim, he was the boy with the brightest smile and the loudest laugh. He was warm—like the summer sun, like the lingering scent of coffee in the morning, like the feeling of home.

And you loved him for it.

Jake had always been yours, and you had always been his. At least, that’s what you thought.

But love is cruel when it isn’t enough.

It started small—missed calls, late replies, moments where he wasn’t really there even when he was sitting right beside you. At first, you brushed it off. Jake was busy with work, tired from practice, exhausted from always giving so much of himself to everyone.

You told yourself you understood.

Until you saw it.

The way he smiled at her.

It was the same way he used to smile at you.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were his anymore.

“Jake, tell me the truth.”

Your voice wavered as you stood in front of him, your fingers curled into your sleeves to keep them from shaking. Jake was sitting on the couch, his head tilted back against the cushions, but his whole body tensed at your words.

“What do you mean?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

You let out a broken laugh. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Silence.

It stretched between you, an unspoken truth neither of you wanted to say out loud.

Jake swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me,” you pleaded, your heart cracking with every second that passed.

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I… I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Your stomach twisted. It felt like the floor was crumbling beneath you, like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“So it did happen.”

He didn’t answer.

And that silence told you everything.

Jake never physically cheated on you.

But love isn’t just about the body.

It’s about the heart.

And Jake had given a piece of his heart to someone else.

You knew he still loved you. You could see it in the way he hesitated before leaving, in the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right anymore.

But love alone wasn’t enough.

So you left.

And Jake let you.

A year passed.

You tried to move on. You really did. But there was always something missing—like a phantom limb, like a whisper in the wind, like the ghost of a love that should have lasted a lifetime.

Then, one day, Jake called you.

His voice was hoarse, weaker than you remembered.

“…Can we talk?”

You hesitated. But in the end, you went.

And that’s when you learned the truth.

Jake was sick.

Terminally.

The doctors had given him months.

Your world shattered in an instant.

The love you had tried so hard to bury came rushing back, suffocating you with its weight. Because it didn’t matter how much he had hurt you, how much time you had spent resenting him for breaking your heart—none of that mattered anymore.

Because you were about to lose him.

Forever.

Jake never asked you to stay.

But you did anyway.

Not as his lover, not as his second chance, but as the person who had loved him first and would love him last.

You were there through it all. The doctor visits, the sleepless nights, the pain that left him breathless and exhausted. You held his hand when he was too weak to stand. You ran your fingers through his hair when the weight of it all became too much.

And Jake… he never stopped looking at you like you were his entire world.

Because you were.

And maybe, in another life, he would’ve realized it sooner.

The last time Jake Sim smiled at you, it was different.

It wasn’t the brightest smile in the room. It wasn’t the loudest laugh.

It was soft. Tired. A whisper of what once was.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath.

Tears streamed down your face as you held his hand against your chest. “Don’t.”

He exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching against yours. “If I had more time… I would’ve spent every second proving to you that it was always you. It was only you.”

You bit your lip, choking on a sob. “I know.”

Jake smiled again—just for you.

And then he closed his eyes.

And this time, he didn’t open them again.

You loved Jake Sim with every part of you.

But love wasn’t enough to keep him.

And as you sat there, holding his lifeless hand, you realized—

Jake had always been yours.

And you had always been his.

But forever was never promised.