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chaotic-mystery · 4 months ago

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PROFESSOR’S PET

Pairing: Art Professor!Joel AU x Teacher Assistant!f!reader.

Summary: Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ only! MDNI. Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n.

Authors Note: Good morning, babies! This is for @studioghibelli & their fantastic writing challenge. This moodboard was absolutely brilliant. As someone who did not go to college & can’t retain information well, I tried to research as much as I could about art so I hope I did it justice! 🩵 || wc: 2.6k || beta’d by @wannab-urs <333 ily sm gin ||

“You want me to do what?”

It came out more as an exclamation rather than a question but you didn’t care at the moment.

He couldn’t have been serious.

“I want you to teach the class tomorrow about your two favorite artists. That’s all I’m askin’” Professor Miller says, stuffing his papers back into the desk drawer for the night.

“B-but you know I don’t talk well in front of them, I constantly stutter and they don’t respond well to me yet, I-”

“Do you need me to help you with the lesson plan for tomorrow? I can come over and help you write down some notes on what you want to talk about, but I need you to get more comfortable around them. We have a long school year ahead of us, and it’s not going to work if you’re afraid to speak up here.”

He was annoyed having to explain his reasoning, but he was right. Even if you didn’t want to hear you were doing a terrible job as a teacher's assistant. Scratching your head and turning so he can’t see the look of shame on your face, Joel shuffles towards you and hands you your coat off the coat rack.

“It’ll be fine. All you need is a push and you’ll do great. Hurry before we miss the train.”

You nod and take your coat to put it on, the tan fabric becoming darker as you step outside and rain starts to pelt off it. Mr. Miller sighs and hoists his briefcase above his head and takes his other hand to the side of him searching for yours until he finds it and grabs it, guiding you through the raindrops until you get under the stone archway to take a brief moment for the rain to calm down.

“Can’t believe I’ve had you as a TA for almost two years now and have never once seen where you live or even know about you outside of this place.” His finger wags slowly behind his head, indicating he was referring to the school.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself, but my parents made a really good name for themselves. I was put through all the good schools they could toss their money at. I was supposed to go to school to be a lawyer, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I told my mom I wanted to study visual arts and she wasn’t too surprised, said I always had an eye for that sort of thing. I want to become a professor here one day but for now I just want to learn everything I can, ya know?” You smile at the ground as you think about teaching here someday and hope it doesn’t come off as dorky.

He’s so much older than you and probably knows so much between art and life. You could only hope to have as much knowledge as him when you become a professor.

“I think that’s amazing honestly. I hope to one day see you as a professor here whenever you feel like you’re ready.”

His grin eases your nerves, and you hear the train coming, taking his hand once more to run to the train stop. Your shoes squeak against the vinyl flooring of the moving cabin until you get to a seat by the foggy window, plopping your bag right next to you with Joel sitting across the small white table that was tattered from all the use.

The train ride to your town wasn’t too long and Joel read almost the entire time, asking you every now and then if you were okay. Once you catch a taxi to take you home, it drops you off right at the black iron gates. He steps out of the sleek black car and is a little taken aback by the size of your house.

“What’s the matter? I told you they had money.” You giggle and push the buzzer on the stone post to the left of you, telling them to let you inside. Almost instantly, the gates push open and you walk along the pebble drive, flinging your book bag over your shoulder as he follows a few steps behind you, taking in the beauty that is your house.

Once you get inside and introduce him to the small group of staff working, they tell you your parents went out for the evening to some charity event and there’s food in the fridge if you were hungry.

The nerves about teaching tomorrow overrode the feeling of being hungry, but you still offered Joel anything he could’ve wanted. He settles with water, and you leave him in the study where he’s content with gazing at the walls covered in full bookshelves about any and everything.

You come back in and shut the rosewood pocket doors quietly, careful not to disturb him from the current book in his hand about astronomy. The way his fingers grazed over the corners of the pages made your stomach tingle just a little bit, the dim lighting from the chandelier glowing a soft yellow on his face as he was entranced by the contents.

Get it together, he’s off limits, you tell yourself.

There was no ring on his finger and he always talked about his lonely weekends, but still. You were his teacher's assistant.

You clear your throat and set his water down on the desk before you turn on the green bankers lamp sitting at the edge of the table. Joel closes the red leather book and looks up at you, noticing the water, and he puts the book back where he found it.

“Thank you.” He raises the glass to you before taking a sip, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallows, and it brings that same feeling as before that you felt in your stomach.

So, give me two of your favorite art pieces and the artist with some facts about them. You don’t have to start from their birth or anything.”

He pinches his slacks right on the thighs to hike them up just a little before he sits down in the wooden chair at the head of the table, his hands on the back of his head as his fingers interlock against his skull.

Focus.

You pace back and forth at the other end of the table, Joel’s eyes on you intently as you fiddle with your fingers, running through the list of artists you tend to gravitate towards.

“I got it. Botticelli.”

“Nice choice. Why him?”

You continue to walk back and forth and sort out which facts about him and his artwork you love to tell people they wouldn’t normally know.

“I love the painting Birth of Venus but um- it’s not technically her birth story, it’s m-more like the story continued after her birth; when she steps off her shell and onto the island of Cyprus. S-she’s being blown onto…” you take a deep breath in and put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You turn away from him and look out the window trying to compose yourself.

“Just take your time, I’ve got all night, kid.”

Turning to face him, he’s sitting straight up now and you can tell he’s listening to every word coming out of your mouth. His dark jacket is tight on his arms and it’s just enough to show the outline of his muscles.

“She’s being blown onto shore by the spring winds which is Zephyr, who is accompanied by his wife, Chloris, who’s also blowing Venus’ shell to shore. Her pose was most likely inspired by an ancient marble statue in the Medici’s collection, which we refer to as the Medici Venus, the first ever nude female sculpture in classical art.”

You manage to recite all of that without stuttering this time and he grins proudly.

“I knew you could do it. Good job. Now, what I want you to do is write down bullet points on this note card with a keyword that’ll spark your mind and draw the facts out of you fluently.”

Your cheeks warm at first and then your brows furrow at his instructions.

“What do you mean, professor?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He scoots his chair back enough so you can stand to the side of him and watch as he scribbles down some words on the lined piece of paper. The red ink flows effortlessly and he pushes it to you, pointing at what he did.

“It’s just a keyword that’ll spark your brain to talk about it. If you write down everything you’re gonna say, it sounds like a robot trying to read it. This way, you won’t get overwhelmed by everything you wanna say and you can sound effortless.”

You nod as the gears in your head turn, the idea making perfect sense now. Reaching out to grab another note card, you bend over to write on it, starting at the top. You feel Joel’s hand on the small of your back very lightly as he watches you write, the pen in your hand moving faster than he’s ever seen.

“The next one is gonna be the technique he used for the painting.”

You write the word ‘technique’ shakily, trying to breathe manually.

“What about his technique?” Joel asks, his hand not moving from your back.

“H-he um, he used the tempera technique, it’s when you d-dilute a raw egg with water and mix watered down p-pigment with it and um-um paint with it.” Your words get breathy and all at once you stand straight up, clearing your throat once more.

“You’re still pretty nervous. Is it me? Am I making you nervous?” The condescending tone in Professor Miller's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, feeling like you’ve been called out.

“Partially, maybe.” You admit and turn away from him but you don’t move from next to him.

He runs his hand over his scruff and smirks slyly.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation you nod yes.

“Turn around for me.” Joel’s hands grip your hips and spin you around in your spot.

“Now read your little note card for me. Come on, you’ve got this, smart girl.”

That was all you had to hear to make your stomach flip and arousal flood your body. Smart girl.

His hands never leave your hips as he holds you still, subconsciously rubbing the fabric of your skirt on the waistband while you read your notes. You manage to get through half of them before you stutter out and stop again.

“Again, from the top.” He says softly, still holding onto you. Just as you begin to speak, you feel yourself being guided backwards and you don’t stop talking, going with the flow of things.

For the purpose of learning, right?

Joel puts you right against his thighs, his head peeking over the side of your arm to see what bullet point you were on.

“Keep going, you’re doing such a good job.” He whispers as he rubs your back gently.

“Botticelli used the tempera technique, which is when you mix a r-raw egg with water a-and you dilute yo-our pigment with water and mix th-em together.”

His hand ever so slowly moves around the side of your thigh until he’s on the top of it, his thumb dangerously close to the point of no return. Your breaths were getting heavier and you were almost positive he could feel your heart rattling in your body like a caged animal.

“Joel, I-”

“Start it again, and if you stutter I’ll stop.”

His hand dips under your skirt and he nods to your index card, wanting you to restart.

“Well come on, be a good girl for me.” He grunts out and smirks before biting your arm playfully.

You didn’t know how you got here or why he wanted to touch you this way but you weren’t going to stop him. He was a good looking man and god forbid you do something out of your normal routine.

His fingertips dance over your overly excited clit and release some tension for you, and it’s like a key to a gate, your legs spreading more and more with every circle from his middle finger. You continue to talk through his efforts to make you stutter, even when he gets faster and kisses your back.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Next artist, let’s go.” He pushes you up on the desk and splits your legs apart, ripping your panties in two before he takes off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“The Swing painted by Jean-Honore Fragonard. It’s said it’s a commission from a man on the court who requested Fragonard to paint him and his younger mistress being pushed on a swing while he watches and admires her-oh my god, Joel, right there, yes, yes.”

His tongue dances against your clit after he spits on it, licking every inch of you just to hear your pretty moans. His hands travel up your abdomen until he gets to your shirt, ripping the buttons apart to see your beautiful breasts. A deep groan against your overly sensitive clit makes your eyes almost roll back into your skull and he slaps your pussy firmly.

“That’s not being a good girl. Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.” You whimper and try to get back on track about the painting you were talking about. His curls tickle against the soft insides of your thighs as he continues, licking feverishly at your clit.

“The brushwork is rapid and it exemplifies the Rococo style of playfulness and elegance” you whimper out and buck against his face, your hand dipping into his hair to tug firmly.

He spanks your ass as he feels your body squirm under him, tugging your legs to rest on his shoulders as he continues to lap up your arousal.

“You’re such a filthy girl, riding your professor's face in your house, naughty naughty girl. Oh, yes, cmon sweetheart, use my mouth.”

You moan his name louder and thank god your sounds are muffled from the rest of the house by all the literature covering the walls. Somehow you finish telling him about the painting and he looks at you as you cry out for more from him, your slick glossing over his mustache.

“Please make me come, Joel. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him roughly and try to grab his rock hard bulge but he pulls his hips away and groans loudly on your lips before grinning, going back down to your pussy and moaning against you.

“Come right on my face, right fuckin’ now. Let me taste how sweet you are. I know you can’t handle much more and you don’t wanna disappoint me, right baby?” Joel smirks and flattens his tongue against your clit once more, teasing you and enjoying this just as much as you were.

The burning sensation in your belly starts to spill over and before you can tell him, you grip both edges of the table and come against his face, crying and squirming to get away from him but it only makes Joel pin you down by your wrists and lick harder, tasting every bit you give him.

He licks you clean and kisses his way up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts to your lips, sharing the deliciousness with you. As you come down from your high, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room starts to chime, indicating it was midnight.

“That 7:30 A.M. class is gonna be here before you know it, professor.” You push the damp curls off his forehead and giggle as he stands up tiredly, holding a hand out for you. As you sit up on the table, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you deeply once more.

“You owe me sleep, so much sleep.”

#studioghibelliswritingchallenge #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller au #professor Joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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theostrophywife · 10 months ago

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mattheo's mixtape.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: lovesong by the cure.

author's note: this idea has been in my head for so long, but now it's finally out. strap in babes, we're simping for mattheo on main. something about those pretty brown eyes and angelic little curls just get me. your honor, i adore him.

The bell outside the door to the record store chimed softly as the boys ventured inside. Mattheo peered curiously at the buzzing neon sign, the slightly scuffed black and white vinyl floor, and the racks and racks of records lining the walls. Though he hadn’t been to the muggle side of Edinburgh, it didn’t look all that different from its magical counterpart.

Yet Mattheo felt like a fish out of water all the same.

Behind him, Theo continued rambling as they perused the vast collection of records laid out before them. “What songs have you picked out? Is there a theme? We’ll need to collect all the tapes for the cassette recorder and compile them all into a single tape.”

The slew of questions Theo threw his way was enough to make him feel overwhelmed. Mattheo was well aware that he was completely out of his depth here, but he was determined to learn. Admittedly, he was quite ignorant of the muggle world until you came into his life. The more you told him about the queer customs and traditions of the non-magical population, the more he began to crave your stories of taking the tube, eating fish and chips until you were sick, and visiting Brighton with your cousins over the summer holiday.

There was a whole world out there that you were a part of, which made him want to be part of it as well.

“You boys alright?” asked the kind woman behind the counter. "Would you like some help?"

Mattheo shied away from the attention, but as usual, Theo turned on his charm and flashed a winning smile at the older woman. “As a matter of fact, we do,” his friend drawled. “My mate here is looking to make a mixtape for his girlfriend.”

The woman smiled warmly. “How sweet. I remember those days. There’s nothing quite as magical as first love,” she said with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I’d be happy to help. What songs did you have in mind?”

After turning over his list, the woman, who turned out to be the owner of the record store, helped compile the cassettes Mattheo needed in order to make the mixtape. She patiently showed them how to record each track and slowed down the instructions so Mattheo could diligently write down notes.

As Mattheo waited for the next track to record, he watched as Theo tried and failed to flirt with the older woman.

“I’m flattered, dear. But I’m old enough to be your mum.” Mattheo snickered, causing his best friend to glare at him.

“Age is nothing but a number, Annette.”

“You’re a persistent one, aren’t you? I’m sure you’ll find your match someday, Theodore. As I have in my husband, whom I’m happily married to.” She turned over to Mattheo and smiled. “He was my first love too.”

Making small talk had never been Mattheo’s strong suit and you often teased him that engaging in polite conversation with a stranger every once in a while wouldn’t kill him. Without fail, he sarcastically responded that it genuinely might, which earned him an eye roll. A fond one, though. Followed by a lip bite as you attempted to conceal a smile.

“How long have you been together?” Mattheo asked curiously.

“Twenty years,” Annette answered proudly. “Though we were friends for ages before he finally mustered up the courage to ask me out.”

Theo snorted. “Sounds familiar.”

Mattheo swatted the back of his head. “My girl and I started out as friends too. Best friends, actually.”

“Hey!” Theo whined. “I take offense to that. I’ve known you longer. Only difference is that you and Y/N snog, which I’m more than open to if you asked.” The wink he sent Mattheo's way made the other boy blanch.

“Sorry about him.” It was a sentiment he was quite familiar with when it came to Theo. The twat tended to flirt with anything that had a pulse. Come to think of it, he wouldn't put it past Theo to chat up a corpse. Merlin knows Mattheo had witnessed his friend trying out a pick up line on the Grey Lady. “So, your husband. When did you realize he was the one?”

“There wasn’t a specific moment, per say,” Annette said thoughtfully. “It’s a culmination of our history together. Since we were friends for so long, Declan just knew me. He knew how I took my coffee and had it ready for me first thing in the morning. He knew that I hated driving in the snow and always offered to give me lift to work when it did. He knew that I had a soft spot for strays and never complained when I brought them home. Declan makes me feel safe. Like I could weather anything the world threw at me as long as he was by my side. I guess when you know, you know."

Mattheo pondered her words. He couldn’t help but recall all the times that his life felt like a never ending shit storm, like it would swallow him whole and drown him from the weight of his troubles. Yet at the end of the day, he always knew that after the storm came the rainbow. That’s what you were for him. You colored his world so brightly that the dark seemed inconsequential compared to your light.

“Y/N makes me feel like that too,” Mattheo declared. “She’s patient and kind. She’s the type of person that always sees the good in people. She saw it in me even when I couldn’t see it myself.”

Behind him, Theo sniffled as he patted his shoulder. For all his jokes and sarcasm, his friend was actually a hopeless romantic deep down. “For Salazar’s sake, Mattheo. Don’t make me bawl like a baby in front of the pretty lady.” Theo wiped at the corner of his eyes rather dramatically. “If Y/N doesn’t marry you someday, then I will. I bet my legs would look amazing in a white dress.”

At that, Mattheo chuckled. He was suddenly glad that his best friend was more than willing to be dragged along in Mattheo’s endeavors to impress his girl. Salazar knew he never would've gotten this far without Theo's self-proclaimed expertise on all things muggle, thanks to his Advanced Muggle Studies class.

As they wrapped up, Mattheo thanked Annette for all her help. Theo promised to come back and winked over his shoulder as Mattheo gathered all of his supplies. The older woman smiled at him as they parted ways.

"Best of luck, Mattheo. Though I doubt you need it. Thank you for indulging an old woman. It was genuinely a pleasure to be able to help you today."

"No, thank you. Y/N is going to love it."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky girl."

Mattheo shook his head. "I'm the lucky one. This is the least I could do to show her how much I..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. "How much I care for her."

Care didn't seem like a strong enough word, but it was close. Mattheo wasn't sure he could fully verbalize the intensity of what he felt for you. You weren't just his girlfriend. You were his best friend, too. His confidante. His rock. You were everything to him.

“Remember what I told you. When you know, you know." She patted Mattheo's shoulder. "You talk about Y/N like I talk about my husband. It's clear that she's very special to you. Don't let go of that one."

Mattheo smiled to himself, his cheeks flushing. “I won't.”

The midnight moon glowed above the Scottish Isles, enveloping the rocky shores of the Black Lake with a chilly breeze that made you shudder even underneath the comfort of your red and gold striped sweater.

“Are you cold?” Mattheo asked softly, his voice echoing through the empty beach.

Before you could respond, your boyfriend shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. With a shy smile, you thanked Mattheo and flushed as he took your hand in his. As you continued on your late night stroll, he cleared pebbles in your path to ensure that you didn’t trip over them on the way to the dock.

It was the little things—the small gestures that Mattheo enacted on a daily basis that made you fall for him even more. Though the relationship was fairly new, the connection between you was undeniable. Perhaps because you started out as potions partners, which eventually blossomed into friendship and now you couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t part of your life.

The two of you settled at the end of the dock and the rickety wood creaked underneath the weight, adjusting to its visitors as Mattheo cuddled you into his side. Warmth radiated off of him, heating you from the inside out with a pleasant flush. Mattheo chuckled as you shoved your cold hands underneath his sweater, curling his fingers around yours and warming you up like your own personal heater.

“So, why did you want to come out here tonight?” you asked after a moment.

As you peered up at him, the moonlight kissed your boyfriend’s features, illuminating the sharp edges of his jawline and cheekbones, curving down the slope of his nose and stopping right above his Cupid’s bow where his soft, plush lips curled into a shy smile as he blinked down at you.

The flush on his cheeks was almost an exact match to the crimson scarf around your neck. He absentmindedly fidgeted with your fingers, his chocolate brown eyes flickering over your face nervously. Mattheo looked so shy and earnest, so unlike the bad boy persona that everyone else seemed to attribute to your boyfriend.

“I made you something,” he stated. You watched as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cassette tape that you hadn’t noticed before. “I noticed that you listen to music while studying or walking through the halls, so I thought I’d compile a few of my favorite songs for you.”

Your heart warmed at this beautiful boy. “You made me a mixtape?”

Mattheo nodded, his angelic curls grazing his cheeks. “I can’t take all of the credit. Theo helped me quite a bit. I wasn’t sure how to make the tape for you, but he did since he’s taking Advanced Muggle Studies. We went into town last weekend and this lovely woman from the record shop showed us how to track and record the songs. I picked the ones that remind me of you the most.”

You looked down at the cassette tape and smiled. The front was covered in little red hearts and spelled out in your boyfriend’s familiar scrawl was Matty’s Mixtape. As if that weren’t enough to make you swoon, underneath the tape was a small booklet with more of Mattheo’s handwriting. You smiled at his selection of songs. There was a mix of Queen, the Cure, the Clash, and of course, the Smiths. It was like having a little piece of Mattheo in your hands.

“I made you a booklet too. There’s a tracklist with reasons why I picked the songs,” Mattheo shuffled beside you, his body language conveying an uncharacteristic shyness. “I also drew a couple of things.”

Sure enough, the booklet was filled with your boyfriend’s drawings. Your eyes filled with tears as you turned the pages. Mattheo rarely showed anyone his art. He was incredibly protective of anything he created since it showed a certain vulnerability. The fact that he was trusting you with it wasn’t something you took for granted.

You traced over the drawings with a fond smile. There were portraits of you on one page, while the others contained memories that you were quite attached to. Your first date at the Three Broomsticks. The first time you wore his quidditch sweater to a Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw match. The day you shared a cup of hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s when the two of you were just friends. They were all in here, immortalized on paper.

Beside you, Mattheo watched anxiously as you flipped through the pages. When you got to the last one, you grinned up at him. “Matty, these are incredible.”

“Really?” He asked, sounding a bit unsure. “You don’t think they’re cheesy?”

“No, I love it!” You threw your arms around him and squeezed your boyfriend into a bear hug. He chuckled, burying his face in your hair and savoring the feel of you in his arms. As you pulled away to face him, Mattheo tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart hurt just to look at you. He really couldn’t believe you were his. You smiled softly. “And I love you.”

You said it firmly, like it was a matter-of-fact. Like you were reciting a truth as fundamental as gravity.

“You love me?”

“I do,” you replied with a smile. “I love you, Mattheo Riddle.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to say it because I made you this mixtape and gave you cheesy drawings—”

He stopped mid-sentence as you grabbed his face with both hands. Mattheo softened at the fierce determination in your eyes. “Mattheo. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Before that, you were the best friend I’ve ever had too. You treat me like a queen and I never have to worry about other girls trying to talk to you because you never even give them the time of day. You make me soup when I’m sick. You give me your jumpers when I’m cold. You bring me coffee when I’m pulling all nighters. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend, so yes. I love you. Not because of the mixtape or the drawings, but because you’re you.”

Mattheo was taken aback. Before you, he never thought he was capable of caring for someone so deeply. You were ingrained in him. It was like the universe had cleaved his soul in two and he’d spent an eternity searching for you. You were his other half—the better half of him that he’d been missing all along. Now that he found you, he had no intention of letting you go.

The lovestruck expression on his face warmed your heart. His eyes—those sweet, warm brown eyes made you feel weak in the knees. Mattheo cradled your jaw and looked at you like you were the only girl in the world.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

You smiled as he leaned forward, bringing your lips to his in a tender kiss. He sighed in relief like he’d been waiting for this all day, fingers snaking through your hair as your body melted into his. Mattheo hummed, peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled as he pecked your cheeks, nose, jaw, and neck.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he declared with every kiss.

Burying your face into his neck, you inhaled the familiar scent of amber, cinnamon, and leather. Mattheo sighed as you scratched his scalp.

“Will you tell me about the songs while we listen to them?” you murmured against his skin.

Mattheo nodded as his curls tickled your cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.”

He pulled out a cassette player and popped the tape in. You cuddled into his side, smiling as he presented you with one half of the headphones. The soft crooning sound of the Smiths filled your ears as Mattheo played with your hair, telling you little anecdotes about the band and how Theo almost knocked over the cassette recorder while he tried to flirt with the record shop owner.

You chuckled as you listened, picking up the sweet lyrics that made Mattheo choose the songs in the first place. You loved each one of his picks, but the best song by far was the sound of his heartbeat thudding in your ears, syncing with your own as it beat for him and him alone.

#you guys am i in love with this man? maybe #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle fluff

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dearest-tobio · 4 months ago

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“out of us three, i never thought atsumu would get married first.”

miya osamu turns to face you, approaching him with two glasses in hand. he steals a second to admire you in the wisps of moonlight—you looked ethereal, always have been, but tonight most particularly. osamu rolls his eyes as he takes the glass from you, part disdain, part cheeky happiness for his brother.

“yep. never would’ve thought someone would want ta be with that idiot.”

you laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “give him some credit, ‘samu.”

it is but a nickname, one that you’ve called osamu since you were kids, but it still yields the power to soar his heart into the clouds.

“‘tsumu’s always been a charmer,” you continue, “getting confessions left and right.”

“i remember that one time, that girl from another class? she mistook you for ‘tsumu and ran away after she gave you a bunch of snacks along with a sappy love letter.”

osamu snorts, recalling all the instances that he was mistaken for his twin. growing up, they had similar hairstyles and interests. it was no surprise that people had a hard time differentiating between them.

maybe that was part of the reason why atsumu chose to dye his hair piss blonde as a first-year. of course osamu was roped into it, but he chose an unassuming grey finish instead. ma didn’t receive the change very well—she was angry for weeks—but osamu always thought it was worth it because of you.

he still remembers the first time you saw him with grey hair, bubbling worry in anticipation to what you’ll say. you noticed atsumu’s new style first, mocking his ridiculous shade in front of the whole team. even kita-san cracked a smile as you hurled insult after insult, immune to atsumu’s whines about how it was fashionably empowering.

“so did ‘samu get his hair done t—oh.”

your eyes met osamu’s, and you float over to him across the hard vinyl floor. your hand reached out across the air to brush the strands on the side of his head. in that moment, osamu realises he’s never felt so raw, so exposed. logic snaps at him to get himself together, but your touch was intoxicating. what was he thinking?

“you look good, ‘samu.” your soft smile is ingrained instantly in his head, as well as the words that follow after: “grey suits you.”

osamu brings himself back to the present, with only you and the cool night air for company. the wedding party inside is still going strong, but out here is a world of its own. out here, it’s quiet, and out here it’s only the two of you.

“you know, ‘samu. i’ve always wondered why you didn’t date back in high school up ’til now. i betted on you tying the knot first.”

all words seem to die in osamu’s throat—how can he explain that it’s you? it’s always been you? you, who stuck through all the late night cramming sessions. you, who came to each and every volleyball game. you, who stood by him at every hurdle that came at onigiri miya, until his onigiris were renowned all over hyogo.

he doesn’t want to imagine the day you text excitedly in the groupchat about someone you’ve met, the first date, and the second, and the third. he can’t place himself in that position, not now, not ever. but he keeps his secret to himself, for one more night. for the foreseeable future.

“i don’t know,” he replies. “guess i haven’t found that someone yet.”

masterlist

#memo: read me #memo: miya osamu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #inarizaki

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sailorrhansol · 5 months ago

Text

Blood & Popcorn | l.c (m)

❀ Pairing: Lee Chan x f. Reader

❀ Summary: Fridays are reserved for watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stuffing your face with popcorn and pizza. It’s been like that for you and Chan since your freshman year of college. But when he skips your Blood and Popcorn night for a date, things take an unexpected turn.

❀ Word Count: 11,315

❀ Genre: Friends to Lovers, Angst, Fluff

❀ Type: Smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Literally so much misunderstanding and repressed feelings, pining, light themes of jealousy, recreational drinking, recreational weed use, bad communication skills, some mild insecurities, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (do not do this lmaooo), nipple stim, light teasing, oral (f. receiving), clumsy/playful sex, jokes/banter while fucking. They’re both down horrendous. Joshua as an almost love interest. Jeonghan is both terrible and great at advice. Alternating POVs and some time skips.

❀ A/N: This is another work coming from a conversation with @daechwitatamic who at this point, I think had been the driving force behind all three random one shots I’ve written. I apparently can’t say no when she asks for something :) so anyway, here is simp Lee Chan and simp reader because ???? And yes I'm posting this at 11:30 pm at night who cares there are no rules!!!!!!!!

❀ A/N 2: Also thank you to Jo for reading this before hand because it would be otherwise largely illegible. King Julian is on the way, bestie.

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Read Next: Still Watching?

“So why not Blood and Pizza if pizza is always involved but popcorn isn’t?” Mingyu eyes the french fries on your plate. You give him a warning glance, pointing the sharp tines of your fork at him. He retreats, leaning against the cracked vinyl of the booth, pouting. “Also, the title sounds gross.”

“Good thing it has nothing to do with you then.”

“Wow, you’re not even going to invite me?”

“No,” you chirp, popping a shoestring fry into your mouth. You savor the saltiness, humming delightedly. “It’s for me and Chan. Not me, Chan and you. Plus, you know nothing about Buffy.”

“Isn’t that a magic dragon? And are you sure you two aren’t dating?”

The look you send Mingyu makes him hold up his hands in surrender. It isn’t the first time someone has asked if you and Chan are dating, and you know it won’t be the last. You don’t want to start down that avenue tonight, trying to navigate the questions of why and well you seem to be a good match.

If romantic relationships were started over simply having things in common and matching a vibe, you and Chan would have started dating a long time ago. But you’re not, and you’ve already gotten over the fact that you’re not dating and that you will not start dating.

Mostly.

The bell rings above the diner door, drawing your attention. Like he’s been manifested by Mingyu’s dangerous question, Chan spots you and lifts a hand, a smile splitting his face as he heads over. You scoot over in the booth, dragging your plate along with you to make room for him.

Chan is dressed in jeans and a green sweater, your favorite color on him. He sits down next to you, cushioned seat dipping a little as he leans over to kiss the top of your head and steal fries off of your plate. You let him, feeling heat flush up the side of your neck as you look anywhere but Mingyu’s accusatory stare.

“These are so good,” Chan says around a mouthful of fries. “Thanks, Bambi.”

You grin at the nickname, trying not to flush too hard.

“I wouldn’t know,” Mingyu says pointedly. You ignore him, shoving your burger in your mouth. “Apparently I’m not allowed fries or to attend your movie night.”

“Order your own fries,” Chan says.

“Ugh. I already ate mine.”

“So order more, idiot. And of course you’re not invited to Blood and Popcorn. That’s our thing.”

Our thing.

The corner of your mouth twitches as you glance at Chan. He doesn’t notice, catching the eyes of the server and waving happily, giving her a broad smile. She gives him a thumbs up in return, confirming she’ll put in his usual now that he’s there.

There are a lot of things that belong to you and Chan. Studying at the very diner you were sitting in during freshman year had been one of them, though now in your final year there’s not as much of a need to study and you’ve incorporated other friends in your late night trips for grease and calories.

You also shared trivia nights on Tuesdays with Vernon and Seungkwan, football Sundays with Seungcheol, Mingyu and Jeonghan, once a month family dinners with everyone, and most importantly, Blood and Popcorn.

Chan steals another fry off of your plate and you let him, leaning back in the booth. Mingyu glares daggers at you, dark eyes flicking from your plate, to you, to Chan. You grin around a mouthful of cheeseburger and he scoffs before looking away.

Behind you, Chan’s arm stretches across the back of the booth, just barely brushing against the top of your shoulders. Your stomach flips a little, momentarily elated at the contact before you swallow it down with Sprite, pretending it wasn’t there in the first place.

The two boys immediately fall into a conversation about their shared engineering class. You tune it out easily, a learned habit over the last four years of having to listen to Chan tell you the functions of a bridge and the best way to design one. Instead, you focus on the rise and fall of Chan’s soft voice and the way it lulls you into a state of calm.

When the server brings over his order, he pulls his arm from over the back of the seat. Immediately you snatch one of the onion rings from his basket, popping one into your mouth and hissing as the crispy snack burns you. He shakes his head, laughing as he gives you a napkin while you sputter.

“Careful, Bambi,” he murmurs. “They’re literally steaming.”

Mingyu reaches for an onion ring, only to be threatened with the blunt end of Chan’s steak knife. “Don’t even think about it.”

“But she-”

“Bambi has special privileges,” Chan quips. “Order yourself some more fries for the love of God. I’ll pay for them.”

Mingyu immediately stops whining, mood improving markedly as he orders fries, wiggling in his seat happily. Chan cuts his burger in half, asking, “Why were you talking about Blood and Popcorn anyway?”

“Shua asked Bambi out on a date,” Mingyu answers around a mouthful of fries. “She told him she couldn’t go because of Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan stops eating and looks at you, brows creasing. You feel your heart rate speed up as you kick Mingyu under the table. He yelps, knee jerking upward to slam against the underside of the table. The salt and pepper shakers rattle in place as Mingyu bends over to rub his shin.

“He didn’t ask me out on a date.”

“He asked you to dinner!”

“As friends!”

“Oh yeah,” Mingyu snorts, rolling his eyes. “Friends take friends to fucking prime steakhouses. He asked you out on a date.”

For a moment, silence envelops the table. You stare at your fries, watching Chan out of your periphery. He looks away from you, wiping the grease from his fingers onto the napkin. The air feels pregnant with tension suddenly, your anxiety bubbling as you open your mouth to assert once more it wasn’t a date.

Chan beats you to breaking the silence, “We can skip this Friday so you can go!”

You open and close your mouth a few times, heart dropping to your ass. “What?”

“It’s totally fine if we have to skip. I don’t mind.”

Chan picks his burger back up, not looking at you. Heart pounding in your chest, you can’t help but watch him in total silence, trying to string together a response. Sure, maybe Chan doesn’t mind if you miss your weekly solo hangout. But you care.

The ache of the implication cuts you suddenly, a delayed reaction. You feel your throat tighten painfully, reaching for your Sprite to try and swallow past the sudden tension. It does nothing to quell the way the casual dismissal of your tradition keeps cutting you long after he’s said the words, sawing down to the bone.

“I wasn’t aware that we could just skip Blood and Popcorn, I guess.”

“I mean if you’ve got a date.”

That’s not the point, you want to scream at him.

Chan is a lot of things. Perceptive isn’t one of them. If he had been, you know he would have sniffed out your feelings for him a long time ago. Luckily for you, he’s remained completely oblivious over the last four years of your friendship, and you like to keep it that way. Keep it safe.

Nothing ruins a friendship more than unrequited romance. You know that from more than just the media you consume - you’ve seen more than once first hand when one friend catches feelings for the others but the desire isn’t mutual.

It isn’t mutual here. It’s always been very clear where Chan’s interests lie, and you’re totally fine with that. You accept the relationship that you have happily and quietly, and thought moments like are a brutal reminder of where you stand, it’s alright because you also love your friendship. More than you love him - at least, you think so.

So when Chan so easily suggests to go on a date, to cancel your thing with him to accommodate, you know it isn’t because he doesn’t care. He just thinks that you should go on a date because it doesn’t occur to him that the real reason you don’t want to is because your interests are somewhere else. That you don’t want to cancel Blood and Popcorn because it’s for the two of you and no one else.

“Yeah,” you rasp, unsure what else to say. “Um, maybe.”

“Shua is a good guy.”

“Yeah. Yeah he is.”

Mingyu and Chan go back to their conversation about class. You finish your meal in silence, leaning back against the seat as your thoughts wander listlessly. You gaze around the diner, drinking in detail as their conversation becomes background noise and you can no longer understand what they’re saying.

Rounders Diner had been a staple in the college community long before you were born, and continues to be the center for academic life. Students fill the booths sipping on milkshakes as they cram for exams or homework, night shift workers sit at the countertop and order coffee before heading to work, and the jukebox in the corner glows neon, only offering a selection of music from the 50s.

Behind the countertop is an open scratch kitchen, the sound of sizzling grease and yelled orders bracketing an Elvis song you know the words to but don’t know the name of. Black and white tile flooring with years worth of scuffs reflect the canned lighting in the ceiling. Over near the entrance is a wall covered in pictures of students of note throughout the years.

You remember the first time Chan had hauled you to Rounders. It was the first day you’d met, two freshmen absolutely terrified of the world after experiencing two back to back intro courses together. The dining hall was on the opposite side of campus from your classes, but Chan had insisted there was a diner just off the corner that everyone said was a necessary experience.

He was the first real friend you made. Your roommates had become your best friends too, Lorna and Mai splashed across almost every memory you have of college. But that first day is only colored with Chan, who had slid into the seat across from you and looked around the diner with a bright grin like he was suddenly at home.

Wanna start coming here after class?

You did. And you had.

A hand waves in front of your face, making you blink several times before Chan’s face swims into focus. Your thoughts are a little delayed as you drink him in: dark hair framing dark, angular eyes that turn molten brown when the sun hits them just right, a jawline that has turned sharper as he’s aged, though his cheeks still have a youthful softness that you adore, and a grin that makes the world dim.

“What?” you ask him, totally at a loss for words.

He laughs and you feel the corners of your lips turn upward, an automatic response to his mirth. “I asked if you were ready to go.”

You look up to see Mingyu at the register, passing over the bill and a card. “I think I spaced out. I thought you were buying him fries?”

He snorts. “Never fear, it’s my card. Everything okay?”

You hesitate. Not for the first time, the urge to spill your guts to him grips you so forcefully that you almost do right in the middle of Rounders. Almost tell him everything from start to finish, the feelings, the reason you don’t want to date Joshua, how beautiful you think Chan is-

Mingyu starts heading back and you force a grin on your face, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Of course. A little tired, though. Thanks for dinner.”

“You know I’ve got you.” He gets up from the booth and holds his hand out to you. “Always.”

Chan is the stupidest fucking person he knows. He lets out a loud scream into the warmth of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut as he lays face down in his bed. His arms are shoved under the pillow, fisting in his sheets as the long-winded scream finally begins to die out.

“Yes, that is healthy,” Seungkwan calls from Chan’s desk against the window. “Let the pillow know everything that you’re feeling.”

Scowling, Chan lifts his head up and looks over his shoulder at where Seungkwan is sitting. His roommate is hunched over Chan’s laptop, a document open on the screen as he clicks around rapidly, cursing under his breath.

“Why are you in here again?”

“My literature professor is a dinosaur,” Seungkwan answers. “And only accepts printed essay submissions.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean you don’t have your own printer?”

“No, and I will not be paying thirty cents a paper for an essay that is almost thirty pages long.”

“That’s like, nine dollars dude. Also, why is your essay thirty pages long?”

“Ask the dude who wrote Beowulf.”

“Isn’t that like… a movie?”

Seungkwan mutters something under his breath. The printer chimes, followed by a mechanic whirring as the paper feeds into the machine and starts printing. Spinning in the chair, Seungkwan looks at where Chan is still laying stomach down, face squished against his pillow as he cradles it.

“Speaking of movies - are you having Blood and Popcorn here or at Bambi’s?”

Chan can’t help but smirk at the nickname. It had stuck ever since your freshman year when you’d called Rin Hartford a bambi-eyed bitch for saying nasty things to Mingyu. He thinks that night might be the night he realized he was absolutely head over heels for you, even if he had only known you for two weeks then.

Despite your quiet disposition, you’ve always been the epitome of bravery. He can’t recall a time that you haven’t said what you meant or meant what you said, and defending your friends and speaking up has always been paramount to you.

For someone like Chan who was often the youngest and the softest spoken in any group he was in, you were a breath of fresh air. And you’ve taught him to speak up for himself, letting him grow comfortable pushing back with people - especially his friends - and how to give back what he gets.

Corrupted, Seungcheol joked once. She corrupted him and taught him how to bully us back.

“I’m not really sure,” Chan says slowly, thinking about your conversation at the diner, the exact source of his pillow-scream. “We might not be doing it.”

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“There is no paradise. We’re just friends.”

“That’s the trouble I’m talking about, brother.” Seungkwan turns around to start collecting the pages out of the printer. “Is the Blood and Popcorn cancellation the reason for your pillow screaming?”

“I don’t know that it’s canceled.”

“That really clarifies the issue.”

Chan scowls. “Did you know Shua was into her?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“He asked her on a date.”

“Joshua must have got tired of waiting for you to make a move on Bambi. I guess he decided you weren’t going to.”

Chan frowns and sits up. He didn’t realize Joshua remotely had a thing for you, and while Chan adores the older member of their larger friend group, the thought of him taking you to dinner - a date - makes his stomach tighten.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Seungkwan clarifies. “That you have had the last four years to nut up or shut up. Everyone has waited for you to make your move on Bambi and you haven’t. If you’re not going to do it, someone else might as well.”

“I mean, anyone could ask her out. It’s not like I have-”

“Don’t you dare say you didn’t have dibs. Dibs can be unspoken, Chan. You’ve been in love with that girl since freshman year, if you think people - especially our friends - cannot tell and don’t respect you enough to give you time to ask her out, you need to wake up.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“Not to her, clearly.” Seungkwan stands and grins at Chan placidly, his essay collected in his hands. “Fortunately for you, the only person who is as dumb as you are is Bambi. Match made in heaven, really.”

Chan chews his bottom lip. That offers a little bit of relief. He doesn’t like knowing that his feelings are so obvious to everyone else, but at least you don’t know. He cannot imagine how uncomfortable it would make your friendship dynamic knowing he was mooning over you while you just saw him as a friend.

“Well, she doesn’t feel that way about me. I’m not going to confess my unrequited feelings and put her in that position to deal with them. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Seungkwan gives Chan a slow blink, smile turning plastic. “Like I said. Match made in heaven.”

Heaving a sigh, Chan throws himself on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Chan was certainly an idiot for a lot of reasons, but the biggest reason has to be the way he has let his feelings for you fester since freshman year. Instead of implementing preventative maintenance, he’s let the problem grow to the point that his friends are no longer waiting for him to do something about it.

The window of opportunity is gone.

Not that there was a window of opportunity to begin with. Chan has seen what it looks like when you’re interested in guys - dazed eyes, a little flustered, a tiny grin on your face. You’ve never looked at him that way. At least, not really like that. You smile at him all the time, but it’s different.

If he had the slightest indication you looked at him like you were interested, he’d have spilled his feelings a long time ago. Hiding this from you feels almost like a violation of friendship, but in order to preserve the friendship and keep you comfortable, he does what he must.

The memory of him telling you to go on a date with Joshua makes him groan in embarrassment. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars explode behind his lids. It had been a knee jerk response, something to distract you from the immediate jealousy and panic he’d felt that moment that Mingyu had dropped that bit of information at the table.

Mingyu. That motherfucker did it on purpose - not to rile Chan, but to try and give him a kick in the ass toward the right direction. But like everyone else, Mingyu doesn’t get it. If Chan told you how he felt just to get it off of his chest, it would be putting his burden on you. You’d be the one who had to feel guilty for it being unrequited, you’d be the one who would inevitably feel uncomfortable or out of place.

No. It would be the highest form of selfishness he can think of, offloading the heavy weight of his feelings just to give them to you as a reprieve from carrying them around so long.

Chan blinks away the swimming colors, staring up at the popcorn ceiling of his bedroom again. He can hear Seungkwan singing somewhere in the apartment, liquid voice calming even in Chan’s mild state of distress.

Joshua is a good guy. Honestly, there are only a few guys that Chan knows who would make a suitable partner for you, and he begrudgingly acknowledges that Joshua is at the top of that list. And yet he still feels a twist of self-loathing that he had pushed you so quickly towards it, the regret like bile in his stomach.

The last thing Chan wants to do is skip Blood and Popcorn this week. It is the one guaranteed day of uninterrupted time with you, and he waved it away like it meant nothing to him, which could not be farther from the truth. The nights of watching Buffy and eating pizza and sometimes popcorn mean everything to him.

He just wishes he had been brave enough to stand his ground.

Maybe Joshua Hong is the worst person ever. Chan dismisses the irrational thought as soon as he has it. Joshua isn’t awful at all. It’s just that he’s leaning in toward you and saying something into your ear over the loud din of the party, and Chan watches the way you nod.

Crack. The plastic cup in his hand splits and immediately spills rum and coke all over the kitchen floor. Jeonghan starts yelling at him, ripping paper towels off of the roll and throwing them in Chan’s direction. He mutters an apology, gaze drifting over the kitchen counter to the living room where you’re laughing, head tilted back, warm light splaying across your throat-

“Ya! Don’t just let it pool at your feet!”

Jeonghan’s screech brings Chan back to life. He snatches the copious amounts of paper towels Jeonghan has thrown at him and starts to soak up the drink. The tile floor is already sticky and Chan cringes. No way have either Jeonghang or Seungcheol cleaned this floor any time recently. If anything, Chan has done it a favor.

The party is in full swing around him. He stands up with the soaked paper in his hand, tossing it into the trash and grabbing more while Jeonghan digs underneath the counter. Chan finishes soaking up the spilled drink and comes eye to eye with a new set of paper towels and spray cleaner.

Chan gives Jeonghan the soaked papers. “Jeonghan, your floor is already disgusting.”

“Then you should have no problem cleaning it!”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He rolls his eyes but does what Jeonghan says, spraying the area quickly and pressing down the paper towels. They come away sticky and black, making him cringe in disgust before tossing them out and washing his hands. As he turns off the faucet, Jeonghan has the decency to hand him a new drink.

Chan takes it without comment, the image of Joshua leaning into you a little too much for him to deal with right now. He drains the cup, sputtering a little. Jeonghan is a heavy pour and the spiced rum goes down rough, his eyes tearing just a little as he finishes the drink.

“Well, that’s one way to stop from spilling.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a look before reaching for the mixer and handle of rum again. “You do normally drink like a fish, but anything in particular driving tonight’s thirst?”

“Nope.”

“Right, so it’s not tall, dark and handsome hanging out with Bambi?”

Chan feels his eye twitch as he heavily pours the liquor into his cup. “Nope. And Joshua isn’t even that tall.”

“Taller than you.” Chan shoots Jeonghan a venomous look. His face is beatific, grin a little bit dangerous as he holds his hands up in a white flag. “You look pretty bothered. If only there were a way to fix that.” Chan looks at Jeonghan with wide eyes, hope surging for a moment. “Just tell her you like her.”

“Why is that the only advice any of you have?”

“Because it’s the only advice I have. Either tell her or get over your feelings. Those are your options.”

“And I’ve already told you, it would just make her uncomfortable. It’s not her burden to bear.”

Jeongan taps his fingers on the countertop, studying Chan. Chan pouts into his cup, taking long draughts, trying not to cringe at the strong taste. He can already sense the oncoming buzz and he welcomes it, needing a little something to distract him from the obvious elephant in the living room.

“Alright,” Jeognhan relents. “Then deal with the consequences and get over your feelings.”

And he will. Chan has always been good at dealing with the repercussions of hiding his feelings, and he does them well. So he tips back the cup and rejoins the party, nerves steeled and ready to deal with the consequences like his friends keep telling him to.

“What?” you asked, lifting your voice to be heard over the rowdy game of cards at the coffee table. Joshua had asked you something but the words had been lost on you as your gaze drifted to Chan where he was leaning against the wall, talking to a girl you didn’t know. He was leaning awfully close. “I didn’t catch that.”

Joshua smiles. He really is handsome, and everything someone could want in a partner. He’s kind and gentle, has a little bit of an insane streak, and he is incredibly intelligent and loyal. So why do you feel nothing when he grins at you or laughs?

Your eyes drift over to Chan again and you feel your stomach flip. The alcohol turns to lead. The girl Chan is speaking to is so close to him, both of them turned toward one another as he ducks his head down to say something to her. She laughs and he smiles, looking her up and down.

Jealousy swallows you whole. It roars so loudly in your ears that you almost miss Joshua’s question again. “Did you give any thoughts about dinner on Friday?”

Dinner? Friday? Oh right. He had asked you to dinner on Friday, but you’d declined due to your planned Blood and Popcorn night. With Chan. Who is flirting with the girl next to him, who is flirting back.

The jealousy feels like a raw, rotten thing. It turns the alcohol in your stomach sour, makes the sweat on the back of your neck feel too much, like the room is too loud and too full. Even as the envy rears its head, an ugly beast ready to unleash, you turn to Joshua and say, “I really can’t. Friday nights are really important to me.”

Joshua looks disappointed, but he’s polite enough to nod and smile. “I understand. Maybe a different night?”

“Um, maybe. Would you excuse me? I really need some air.”

You stand abruptly, starling the people next to you. The cup in your hand shakes a little and your throat constricts and oh god. You cannot cry in the middle of a party just because you’re a little buzzed and the boy you like is across the room with another girl.

“Do you want me to-”

“No!” You quip, shaking your head. “Totally fine, I’m so fine, I just need some air. Please! Sit! Stay!”

Joshua raises his eyebrows at your frantic commands and you give a laugh that is a little on the hysterical side as you step over the legs of people sitting on the floor and on the couch. Joshua calls after you as you make the escape but you don’t turn around, eager to get out of the room.

You trip over someone’s foot and nearly launch into a passerby as you go. Strong hands steady you before you totally topple over, though your drink sloshes over the edge of your cup, spilling it on the carpet.

“What is it with you and your other half?” You look up to realize that it’s Jeonghan who stabilized you. “Spilling drinks all over my damn floor!”

“It probably helps. Your floors are disgusting.”

“Ya! That’s beside the point - why do you look like you’re about to die?”

“I feel like I might. I need fresh air.” For a moment, Jeonghan looks confused. You watch his dark brows pull together and he looks over your head, dark gaze scanning for something. For Chan, you realize. It’s usually Chan who leaves with you if you need air or need to stick your head in a bucket to vomit. The realization hits you like a brick. “Not him,” you whisper. “I’m fine.”

Your words land at the same time Jeonghan focuses in the direction you’d last seen Chan. He holds you there, suspended in time for a moment as his eyes dart between you and back to where you know Chan is still leaning against the wall.

There is a flicker of something that you cannot place in Jeonghan’s gaze before it softens and he nods. He pulls you toward him and helps guide you around the groups of people. “Fresh air it is.”

“You don’t have to come.”

“I don’t know, crying alone is kind of lame, Bambi.”

Cool air hits you the second you step onto the porch. Soonyoung is sitting on the railing with Jihoon and Vernon leaning next to him. He waves enthusiastically when he sees you, breaking out into a grin and lifting the joint between his fingers, an offer. You shake your head and he shrugs, passing it to Vernon who lifts a hand in salute.

The smell of weed chases you down the grass slope of Jeonghan’s backyard. It’s not so much a backyard as it is open to the apartment community’s lake. The spray of the fountain grows louder as the sounds of the party fade.

Jeonghan sits down in the grass, leaning back on his hands. You join him, cringing at the dampness from the dewey grass. Taking in a deep breath you close your eyes and lean your head back, letting the wind cool the sweat on your overheated skin. The breeze mists the fountain, tiny specks of water tingling on your face as you sit in silence.

Behind your lids, you can see the image of Chan leaning in toward that girl. The intimacy of the space. You hate how you can recall it in such detail - you’d always been able to remember details where Chan was involved. Like the way he was wearing a black, long-sleeved tee that pulled against his chest and arms perfectly, or the way the necklace you bought him two years ago glinted in the light of the living room, or the way-

“I did it to myself, huh?” you ask, feeling the first tear collect on your lash line. You tilt your head upward, trying to blink it rapidly away. “I could have just told him a while ago.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re entirely responsible,” Jeonghan mutters. “Look, putting your heart on your sleeve is really scary, especially when it’s to someone you really value. But you have to decide what to do. You can either tell Chan you love him or you can decide to get over it. You can’t cling to unspoken feelings, though.”

“I just… I don't feel like he returns the feelings and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Then get over him.” You snap your gaze at Jeonghan, who is looking at you with the cool and calm you wish you felt. “If you’re unwilling to be honest with him, then your option is to get over it.”

“Do you think he would… react poorly?”

“Of course not, but I will not speak to all of Chan’s feelings. Those are his to share, not mine, and I believe in the sanctity of acting on one’s own.”

“You sound so… saintly.”

“Dealing with all your problems has turned me into a saint. Do you know what it’s like being therapy to all of these damn people? You all take ‘door open’ a little too seriously.”

You laugh, feeling a little lighter. Pulling at the grass, you sigh. “You’re right, though. I either need to just tell him or let it go. I can’t just… suffer.”

“If only you’d come to that conclusion a while ago.”

“Bleh.”

Fresh air and the weight of Jeonghan’s words weigh down on you. You know that he’s right. Though you’re confident that Chan doesn’t return your feelings, you don’t explicitly know because you’ve never asked. And if you never ask, you’ll never know.

Calm settles over you as you decide your course of action. Blood and Popcorn is in two days - you can bring it up then.

Nodding to yourself, you pluck more grass out of the ground. “Alright,” you tell Jeonghan, heaving a sigh. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Ugh, you two! Don’t call me that!”

Hands shaking, you stare at your phone. You’ve had two days to mentally prepare for this evening and yet when you look at your phone, you think two days was not remotely enough to prepare for this evening. You haven’t spoken to Chan at all about what time you want to have your weekly hangout, but that’s not unusual.

The only thing unusual is your hesitation to hit the call button and ask what time he wants to come over. It’s such a simple thing - you don’t need to confess your feelings to him right now. But the anticipation of what inviting him over means and the possible disaster it can bring makes your fingers shaky.

Instead of hitting dial, you take one deep breath and let it out slowly. In slowly again, and-

Your phone starts ringing before you can finish the exhale. Your heart pounds in your throat when you see Chan’s name flash across your screen. For a few seconds there is pure panic, but you manage to collect yourself and slide your thumb across the screen. It takes a few tries, your hands clammy with anxiety as you answer.

“Hi!”

“Don’t kill me,” Chan immediately says on the other side of the line. You pause, cocking your head.

“Why would I do that?”

“I have to raincheck on Blood and Popcorn tonight.”

“Oh no, are you sick? Do you need me to bring anything over? Is Seungkwan-”

Chan laughs on the other side of the phone and your stomach flutters helplessly. You hear the creak of bed springs and you know he’s sitting on his bed. He has the world’s creakiest bed. “I’m not sick.”

“Oh.”

You frown, sitting down on your couch and folding your legs. There’s nothing else you can think of that Chan would cancel Blood and Popcorn for, so illness had seemed like the first rational thing. You feel a little embarrassed at immediately trying to take care of him, but push it away to ask, “What’s up?”

“I have a date. Tonight is the only night she was available for like two weeks. She’s in her first year of law school so her availability sucks.”

It feels like the air vanishes from the room. You lean back against the backrest on the couch, deflated. You hold the phone to your ear, but don’t feel the weight of it in your hand. The TV across the living room becomes a blur, the muted program in the background unrecognizable.

A date. Chan has a date. That he’s willing to cancel your night for.

You think back to that night at the diner when he told you to just go out with Joshua instead of doing Blood and Popcorn. How easily he pushed it aside. Like it was unimportant. Easily missed.

“Bambi?” Chan’s voice sounds distant through the roar of your emotions. “You there? The cell service in your apartment is so shitty.”

“I’m here.”

“Oh good. Sorry to miss, please don’t kill me. We can add two days of Blood and Popcorn next week to make up for it?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”

There’s a pause. “Are you okay?”

“Definitely.” Lie. “Sorry, I just woke up from a nap and I’m a little spacy.” Lie. “No problems here. I’m not mad. Enjoy your date.” Lie.

“Thanks, I’ll let you know how it goes after!”

“For sure.”

When Chan hangs up the phone, you think that Jeonghan was right. Crying alone is lame.

Chan can’t do this.

Sol isn’t the problem - at least not directly. She is beautiful and funny, sharp as a whip and has an edge to her that he loves in women. She is successful, has goals, and she’s sensible. And she’s into him, which is perhaps the biggest plus of all.

But she isn’t you. Sol’s biggest problem is that she’s not you, and it’s not really her problem at all. It is Chan’s and Chan’s alone, and he cannot sit through this date anymore. He’s tried for the last hour already, asking all of the right questions and laughing at all the right places, but he cannot stop the way he wonders if you’re watching buffy. He cannot help but wonder if you’re in those expensive pajamas you like, drinking inexpensive wine from the corner story, his favorite contrast.

Chan cannot stop thinking that his button up is a little too tight on his chest and the uncomfortable way his new shoes rub his ankle. He’d rather be in a tee and shorts, freshly showered and stretched out. He cannot stop blinking his eyes, hating the way one of his contacts is irritating him, wishing instead to be in glasses and the lowlight of your apartment.

From the moment he ended that call with you to cancel Blood and Popcorn, all he’s felt is dread. Dread for the upcoming date with someone he should be excited about, dread for telling you how it goes, dread for having to be in public with people and to get to know someone, dread at what happens at the end of the date, does he have to kiss her? Does he have to go get ice cream? What does he do-

“Are you okay?” Sol’s raspy voice draws him from his thoughts - not for the first time that night. She’s leaning back in her seat, dark eyes pinning him to the spot. She is as sharp as she is beautiful, and normally someone like Sol would make him trip over his feet. “You zoned out.”

“I apologize, that was rude of me.”

“It was,” she agrees. She swirls the wine in her glass, looking him up and down before giving him a sympathetic smile. “I won’t be offended if you want to call this off early.”

“What?”

“You’re not interested,” she asserts. Confident. Self-assured. “It’s totally okay if it’s not working for you.”

Heat crawls up the side of Chan’s neck. He runs his sweaty palms over his slacks. “I am so sorry,” he says earnestly. “This sounds so stupid to say, but it is me, it isn’t you.”

��No offense, but I know. You’ve been distracted since we got here. You obviously have something or someone else on your mind.”

“That easy to read, huh?”

“Open book. I have some pride, though. Let’s pay the bill?”

“I’m sorry.”

Her grin is polite. Understanding. “Don’t be. You’re cute and nice, but I cannot suffer knowing your mind isn’t on me.”

“Understandable.”

Chan knows he’s lucky. Anyone else a little less level-headed or less confident might have made him suffer. As it is, Sol does let him suffer a little, sliding the bill over to him with a knowing grin. He likes Sol - not like he likes you, but she’s good people.

“Promise me one thing?” Sol asks before ducking into her Uber. “It’ll help my pride.”

“Sure.”

“Go spend the rest of the evening with whoever it is and make sure you tell them how you feel. It’ll be worth it, that way.”

Chan grins. “Alright. I promise.”

And he does intend to hold to that promise. Something about tonight is different. He can feel it as he walks quickly to his car, undoing the top button of his shirt as he goes. The air is crisp and there are still a few streaks of orange in the night sky, the sun long gone.

Chan calls you as he turns his car onto the road, heading toward your apartment on the northside of down. He drums his fingers along the steering wheel, buzzing with nervous and excited energy as the line rings. When you don’t pick up, he ends the call.

Jeonghan was right - he usually is. Chan could either tell you how he feels or live with the consequences, and he’s decided he cannot live with the consequences. He cannot sit across the table from someone who isn’t you and pretend that he isn’t wondering what you’re doing. He cannot look at the curve of someone else’s mouth and wonder what it would be like if it were yours.

The date had been spurred by the intense wave of jealousy and inadequacy he felt at Jeonghan’s party when he saw you sitting on the couch with Joshua. He has no idea how else he would have had the confidence to start chatting up someone as commanding as Sol, but he was powered by rum and a wounded heart.

Stupid. It was stupid, he realizes now. He has been stupid so many times regarding you and for long enough that even Joshua, the most polite of his friends, felt like they could respectfully intercept you, now.

Well, perhaps you will choose Joshua instead. Chan is fine with that. What you want has always been paramount to him. But if you choose Joshua, it will be with the knowledge that Chan loves you and he always has.

Steeling himself, he gets out of the car at your apartment complex and looks up at the building. He can see the lights on in your living room, confirming you’re still home and probably watching Buffy. The thought sends a thrill through him and he smiles, shaking his head and taking a deep breath.

“You’ve got this, Lee Chan,” he tells himself. “You’ve got this.”

A loud knock on your door startles you. You finish blowing your nose in the issue, trying to suck up the rest of your tears. Pulling the sleeves of your sweater - Chan’s sweater - over your hands, you wipe your face with sweater paws, trying to erase some evidence of your tears before having to face the delivery person.

Grabbing the bills on the counter, you wonder how many people delivering food have seen people answer the door while crying or immediately after crying. Honestly, they’ve probably seen all types of strange situations, which makes you feel a little bit about answering the door after very clearly sobbing.

Unlatching the top and flipping the deadbolt, you yank the door open, prepared to not make eye contact to make it a little less awkward for you and the person just trying to hand you pizza and soda, except-

“Chan?”

It is Chan standing outside of your door. You blink in surprise, giving him a quick once over. He looks really nice, dressed in slacks and a black button up shirt that is a little too tight across the chest - not that you’re complaining - and the top of the buttons undone to reveal the necklace you gifted him. His dark hair has styling product in it, pushing it out of his face, save for a small rebel strand that hangs over his eyebrow.

Chan looks… beautiful. You’re suddenly very aware that you’re in his sweatshirt and sweatpants, face swollen from crying, nose a little snotty and looking worse for wear.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why are you crying?”

Chan pushes his way into your apartment and you let him, dropping your arm as he passes by. He shuts the door for you, flipping the latch and lock out of habit as he turns to you. He reaches out to grab you by the shoulders but you back up a little, suddenly terrified of his touch.

He notices. “Why are you crying?” he asks again, dark brows knitted and mouth twisted in a frown. “Talk to me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

“Left early, wasn’t working. What’s going on?”

You swallow thickly, realizing you’re at a crossroads. Silence stretches between you as he waits for your answer, looking at you with so much concern that you begin to crack. The tension in your throat returns, the telltale sign of tears and you ball your fists, nails digging into your palms.

A torrent of feelings bombard you. Anger. Hurt. Desire. Relief. Hurt again.

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn.”

Chan opens and closes his mouth, head cocking to the side a little bit. He looks mystified, trying to put together the pieces to the puzzle. “I don’t understand.”

“You canceled Blood and Popcorn for something else. For someone else.”

“I-”

A series of emotions flit over his face. You feel your heart pounding wildly in your chest as you watch each one, trying to catch them as they go. Confusion. Thoughtfulness. Confusion. Realization. You watch as he drinks you in, the tears, the wet stains from crying on the shirt, your words. Slowly, Chan puts the pieces together for the entire picture, and his face becomes so soft that you nearly cringe.

“Oh, Bambi.”

“You can date whoever you want, you’re not mine,” you punch out, wiping a tear as it escapes your eye. Feeling small, you back away from him a little, breaking eye contact. “But it hurts when you shove me aside like that. Look, I know we’re friends, but-”

“Bambi,” he says gently. You’re not looking at him, but you know that tone. The pleading. He’s begging you to stop, you think, but if you don’t get this out now you never will.

“Blood and Popcorn is important to me. You’re important to me. I know you’ve never seen me as more than a friend, but Chan-”

Chan interrupts you again. This time though, it’s by crashing against you. You nearly topple over onto the coffee table with the force of it, but you cling to him, digging your hands into the meat of his biceps to hold yourself to him. His hands press into the small of your back, sending a bolt of electricity to you that you can’t pay any attention to, because Chan presses his mouth against yours softly, stealing all of your thoughts.

For a second, your brain goes static. You’re so stunned you don’t do anything but cling to him, vacantly aware that the softness of his lips are on yours. Tentative. Questioning.

Chan pulls away and your eyes flutter open. He is only an inch away from your face, his minty breath fanning your lips as he begins to apologize, panic on his face. You interrupt him this time, surging forward to crash your lips to his, far less gentle than he had been the first time.

The box you’ve shoved every feeling for Chan cracks open. You feel everything pour out of it, a steady stream of want as you press into him. He smells like teakwood and mint, hypnotizing you. His mouth is soft and eager, sucking gently against your bottom lip.

Everything feels lighter, like gravity has lost all meaning. Chan pulls away from your mouth a little, close enough to brush your lips against his in a feather-light kiss, but enough to gaze down at you through half lidded eyes.

“The date didn’t work out because I kept thinking of you,” he whispers, voice shaking. You feel your breath stop as he speaks, each word sinking in. “It was stupid to ask her out. I was feeling insecure about Joshua asking you out, and it was stupid and petty-”

You kiss him again. He smiles into the kiss, letting you lead him, slow and lazy. You feel his tongue brush against the seam of your lips and you eagerly let him in, toes curling as he licks into your mouth.

“I just want you,” Chan admits, breaking away for a quick breath of air. He presses his lips against the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your cheek. He peppers your face in them as his hands skate up your back, hot even through the material of his sweatshirt. “I have for so long and I’ve been so afraid to tell you.”

“I was afraid too.”

“I have wasted so much time.” His hands cradle your face, turning you to look at him.

Chan is so earnest. Raw honestly glitters in his eyes. Deeper, hiding beneath the surface is something a little darker and more intense. Want. Desire. Something that lingers, waiting for you to call it forward. You love him so much that in that moment you almost cry more, feeling overwhelmed with everything you’ve buried down for years.

“I want to make up for it,” you whisper, stealing a kiss that is more teeth than anything. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. Your hands sink to his waist, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. “I was actually going to tell you tonight, before you canceled.”

“What a stupid man I am.”

You smirk a little. “Yes.”

“Let me apologize,” he murmurs, voice low. You feel yourself shiver as he pushes you toward your room, connecting your mouths again. The kiss is messy and needy, so different than the one moments before. You tangle together, stumbling toward your room. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?”

The crash landing onto your mattress is not graceful. Chan’s full weight falls on top of you and your foreheads smack a little. You yelp in paint and Chan groans, burying his face in your neck. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles to the surface, exploding out of you as your hands press flat on his back, soothing as you hold him to you.

“First step of apologizing,” you wheeze under him. “Give her a concussion.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, burying his face further in embarrassment. “I’m a little eager.”

His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm under him. He seems to notice, opting to press open-mouthed kisses against your throat. You hum, eyelids fluttering at the stimulation. “It’s okay,” you breathe, fingers turning to claws against his back. “It’s cute.”

Chan leans off of you, properly supporting himself with arms on either side of your head, caging you in. His knee slots between your legs, making your stomach leap in excitement as he scoots it up a little, almost pressing against you.

“You’re cute,” he notes, kisses getting messy as they go up your neck toward your ear. He nips your ear and you let out a sound. His laughter is warm against you and you shiver. “You’re in my clothes.”

“I wear them all the time.”

He groans. “I know. Fuck I know.”

“Is that what does it for you?” You move your hands from his back to his waist, pulling the tucked shirt from the waistband of his slacks. His hips twitch forward, excited. He busies his mouth with pressing wet kisses to your jaw. “Me in your clothes?”

“Everything does it for me. I am down horrendous for you.”

“I really didn’t know.”

He moves a hand to pull at the collar of his sweatshirt, exposing more of your collarbones to him as he kisses. “Everyone else did,” he assures you. You hiss when he bites down and licks over the sting, looking up through dark lashes to gauge your reaction. You nod a little and he grins, doing it again. “Biting. Got it.”

With trembling fingers, you work the buttons on his shirt. You steal touches as you go, greedy for him. Too long have you hidden what you want in the shadows, too long have you resisted this. Now, you take.

You brush your fingers against the flexing muscle of his stomach as you pull at the shirt, making him moan deep in his throat. His skin is like fire as you brush your fingers across its warmth, shoving his shirt off. He leans up, letting it fall from his shoulders, rippling to the ground.

The light from your hall glows behind Chan, haloing him in golden light. Your breath catches in your chest as your fingers press to his skin, brush over his shoulders and chest, down his stomach. You feel him twitch beneath your hands but he lets you explore, breathing hard under your reverence.

Golden boy, so full of fire. It’s all you can think of as you stare up at him, equal parts light and dark in your bedroom. Your hands drop to his belt and you tug him to you, desperate for him.

“Kiss me,” you beg.

He does. His mouth is greedy, stealing your breath. A thrill shoots through you when he slides his knee up higher, pressing it between your legs. You breath the kiss to gasp at the barest amount of pressure and Chan grins, watching your reaction through a heavy gaze.

“Take this off for me,” he asks, voice raspy. He pulls at the hem of his sweatshirt on your frame. “Please.”

You lean up, pressing your mouth to his collarbone in a sweet kiss as you pull the shirt over your head. He helps you, tossing it somewhere else. His hands go to your sides, fingers tracing up your curves as he pushes you back down, claiming your mouth again.

It feels like you might go crazy. Your bare chest presses against his, the friction turning your blood to liquid fire. His knee is firm between your legs, and when his hand slips to your waist, squeezing you and urging you to roll your hips you can’t help but let out a moan in the shape of his name, helpless.

“Fuck,” he swears, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he helps you move against his thigh. “If you say my name like that again I might bust in my fucking pants.”

“Chan.”

“Don’t,” he laughs, biting your shoulder. “I want this so bad.”

“I want you.”

“I might pass out due to sheer joy.”

“I have some ideas on how to revive you.”

He lets out a swear and you laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe.”

Truth is, you think he might be the death of you. You’d die happily in his arms, completely swept up in the feeling of Chan’s tongue as it skates across your skin and up the swell of your breast. When he pauses, you look down at him. He smirks, happy to have your attention before he flicks his tongue lightly over the peak of your nipple.

You squeeze your legs around his thigh, back bowing off the bed. He lets out a chuckle, repeating the flicking motion as he watches you with dark, satisfied eyes. It drives you insane, the way he watches you with equal parts reverence and determination to find out what makes you squirm.

Chan is a fast learner. His teeth scrape against your nipple and you whine, thrashing under him as he teases you, pulling gently. The sting feels so good, making you melt into the mattress underneath him. He makes a sound of appreciation, sucking gently and sending you to the moon before trailing his mouth toward your other breast.

The hand on your hip squeezes you, reminding you why it had been there in the first place. “Keep going.” His breath fans against your skin and you tremble. “I like seeing you worked up.”

“God,” you whisper, trying to roll your hips against his leg again. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and as he sucks greedily at your chest you feel like you might rip at the seams. “Who knew you were so… this.”

You feel his wet grin against you, tongue flicking against your pert nipple. Your head falls to the side as you pant, trying to catch your fucking breath.

Of course he can reduce you to nothing so easily. No one knows you better than Chan, the two of you like twin flames. Every touch of his tongue, every press of his fingers into your skin, every breath of your name on his lips were made to unravel you because it’s Chan. Your Chan.

Your Chan who gently pulls the sweatpants from your hips, groaning low and slow when he sees the way your panties stick to your folds. Your Chan who kisses and bites the softness of your thighs, breath ghosting across sensitive flesh, fingers prying your legs apart when they start to twitch shut.

You’d always been made for him. To think otherwise was folly. You know that now, hand gripping his bones tight as he pulls your hands to the side, the cold air hitting your aching cunt. He lets you squeeze his hand, not caring that your gripping is bone-breaking.

“Hmm.” He looks up at you and you look down at him. His eyes are blown and he grins, shaking his head a little. “This for me?” You nod, your thoughts banging around the near empty space in your head as you do. “Fuck.”

And then his tongue presses against you, flat and warm and fuck fuck fuck. You can barely function as Chan drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, avoiding your clit entirely before dragging it back down. He makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a whine and you nearly lose it there, driven insane by him.

Chan takes the hand he has linked with yours and rests it on your hip, pressing into you to keep you still. You buck under his mouth and he laughs, unbothered as he looks up at you. The vision of him between your legs makes you dizzy, his hair mused, tongue pressed between your folds, eyes starving.

Your other hand grips his wrist where his opposite hand holds you open. You cling to him, thighs twitching as he licks you at his leisure. His mouth is a weapon, bringing you to the edge of insane easily. When he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, you fear you might break.

He can sense it too, setting himself to the task of pushing you over the edge. Chan learns you so quickly - maybe just knows you intuitively - alternating between circling his tongue around your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking on it gently.

“I am going to die,” you gasp between ragged breaths. “Your fucking mouth.”

“Yeah? Feels good?” The buzz of his words drive right into your lower stomach where your orgasmed has so much compacted pressure you know you’re going to snap any moment. “Taste so good. I could eat this pussy all fucking night.”

“Fuck, Chan. I’m gonna come.”

He gives a harsh suck to your cunt, the wet sound obscene. “Good.”

“Like that.”

“Yeah?” he asks, panting. He does it again, following your instruction. Your mouth falls open as you nod, unable to string together more than. “Mmm.”

Chan doubles his effort, the wet sounds of his mouth making it all the harder to keep it together. He keeps you in place as best as he can, but his little hums of pleasure and the combination of his mouth and tongue send your orgasm slamming into you.

You think you say his name. You have no idea if anything comes out at all. You come hard, thrashing against the bed as he licks you through it, uncaring. Every nerve in your body is on fire, limbs tingling as you float in the momentary high of your peak before you start to come back down, breathing raggedly.

A cramp throbs in your fingers that are still twisted in Chan’s grip. You loosen your grip a little bit, feeling a little bad about almost snapping his fingers. He doesn’t seem to mind, head still between your legs, tongue gentle and pressed against your twitching entrance. He avoids your clit, letting you catch your breath.

“Chan,” you mumble. He lifts his head, your arousal spread across his mouth. He is a mess, spiking your need for him. You pull at him, wild. “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He scrambles up to you, letting go of your hand in favor of cradling your face. The kiss is hungry and wet, your heady taste on his mouth as you drink him in. You don’t care, desperate to have him close, pulling him into you.

One of your hands snakes between your bodies, pressing against the firm outline of his cock through his pants. He lets out a whine, shaking his head as he breaks the kiss, breathing heavy.

“Don’t,” he begs. “I will cum right now.”

“Oh?”

“I’m so serious, I almost came untouched.”

“Wow, I really do it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” His sincerity makes you flush and you peck him on the lips. “I cannot promise I will not come apart after a single stroke.”

“Don’t care.” You undo his belt, pulling. “Want it. Want you. Please don’t make me wait.”

He curses. “I can deny you nothing.” He sees your wicked grin and shakes his head, laughing as he pulls away to kick out of his pants. “You like having me wrapped around your finger, huh?”

“You’re not the only one whipped.” He looks at you, doubtful. “You think I share my fries with anyone? Be so real, Chan. That’s something only you can do.”

“Got it. French fry privileges, what else can I weaponize?”

You don’t answer his question, distracted by him as he peels his briefs off and fists his heavy cock. You lick your lips, drinking in the length and thickness of him, the sticky, swollen tip, the way he pumps himself when he kneels on the bed again.

“Hmm?” he asks, noticing you're distracted. “Everything okay?”

“You have a nice dick,” you blurt. He pauses, raising his brows, thighs pressed to the back of yours. You fold your lips flat, a little embarrassed by your outburst. “Thank you is the proper response to a compliment.”

He bursts into laughter and you can’t help but join him, covering your face as it heats up. “Don’t hide from me, wanna see you,” he teases, grabbing your hands and pulling them from your face. He pins them above your head. “And thank you.”

Chan runs the head of his cock along your sticky folds, both of you moaning in unison. His hand still pins yours above your head, making you feel open and vulnerable. Your knees squeeze his hips as he ruts against you a little, eyes focused while he uses his other end to guide himself to your entrance.

“Mmm,” the sound escapes you as he presses in, the ache in your core doubling for a second as he sinks further. “Fuuuck.”

“Okay?”

“Very. Just- slow.”

“You got it, baby.”

The term of endearment hits you low in the stomach. Between him whispering baby and sinking into the hilt, you don’t know what drives you crazier. The easy answer is just Chan. It’s simply Chan who does this to you, who turns you inside out, who reduces you to a whimpering mess.

Chan lets go of your hands and brings it to your face. He leans down, supported by the other hand as he kisses you gently, letting you adjust to his girth, pussy spasming around him as you try to keep it together. The kiss is slow and sweet, in contrast to the feral kiss you shared earlier.

“Fuck,” he breaths against you mouth, laughing. He presses his forehead against yours. “You’re fucking squeezing me. I might die.”

You do it on purpose this time and he hisses, all of his muscles clenching. “Like that?”

“Doonnn’t. If I come right now I’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Why? It’s just me.”

“I don’t want to one-stroke my dream girl, are you serious?”

“Dream girl, huh?” He pulls out a little before shallow thrusting back in. “Mmm yeah. That feels good.”

Instead of answering your jest, he kisses you slowly. His strokes are slow but deep, making you sigh. He feels so good, having him like this. Chan presses his body against you, melding the two of you. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing to keep him as close as possible.

Your name falls from his lips as you move in sync. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feel him shake in your hands. He buries his face in your neck, mouth pressed against your skin as he breathes heavily. You cling to him, as though you could press your love into him, as though you can transfer it through touch.

Chan slides a hand between the two of you, reaching down to circle your clit gently. You whimper in surprise, squeezing around him and drawing out a low sound. “I’m gonna come soon,” he murmurs. “Do you have another one, baby? Can you try for me?”

You nod. He presses his lips to your temple, driving his hips faster, fingers firm. You feel yourself wind up again, desperate to catch up to Chan, to give him what he wants, to come undone together. You’d do anything for him - anything he asked. You always have.

A glint of metal catches your eye. You see the necklace you gifted him hanging around his neck, tapping his collarbone in time with his movements. The sight of it makes you possessive, your desire for him surging. Gripping the back of his neck, you bring his mouth to yours. You don’t kiss him, but your mouths are pressed together as you mutter, “I love you, you know?”

He groans, hips stuttering, fingers firm. You’re so close, you feel yourself right on that edge again. “I do know,” he admits, his cock pressing that perfect spot inside of you that has the room spinning. “I love you too, you know?”

You feel him smile against you. The kiss he gives you is so gentle that it sends you over the edge. You hold him tight, coming undone around him as he groans into your mouth, unraveling with you. When he stills, you keep holding him to you, his embrace warm.

Chan nudges your nose with his. You open your eyes to find his dark ones peering at you. You smile, lifting a hand to trace your fingers along his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the roundness of his cheeks. You note the faint freckles under his eyes, his long lashes, the way one side of his lips lifts before the other when he smiles.

“Hmm?” he asks.

“You’re so pretty.” You trace your finger to his nose and then flick it. He frowns and pulls away, making you laugh. “There is cum leaking down my leg to my ass.” He thrusts once sharply and you whine. “Chaaaan.”

“Hmmm?”

“Can we shower?”

“We?”

You grin. “You speak French?”

“I speak pussy.”

“Ew, get off of me!” you laugh, hitting him in the shoulder. He laughs too, rolling off and pulling out. “Take me to the shower, you loser.”

“Oui.”

“Then I want to watch Buffy - oh no.”

“What?” He stands and reaches a hand out to you, helping you up. “Are you alright?”

“I ordered pizza and they probably tried to deliver.”

“That’s okay.” He pulls you toward the shower and smacks your ass lightly, making you yelp. “Start the shower, I’ll call and get it re-delivered.”

You pause, looking at him, unable to bite back the smile. “I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too, Bambi.”

“I know I’m good looking,” Chan murmurs, eyes on the screen. “But you’re staring very hard at me.”

You’re laying against his chest, head tilted up to look at him. You can’t help it, watching the blue light from the TV dance across his face, reflected in the glasses he put on after the shower. His hair is still damp and fluffy, skin glistening from the skincare post-shower.

“You are good looking.”

“Damn. Only like me for the looks?”

“Well your jokes aren’t very good.”

He levels you with a glare and you laugh, kissing him quickly before settling down in his arms again. His embrace is warm and he smells like your shampoo. You press yourself into him further and he grunts, letting you.

“Can we do Blood and Popcorn forever?” you ask, watching him fondly. He smiles and kisses your forehead, flooding you with warmth. “Please?”

“Anything you ask, baby. Blood and Popcorn forever.”

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#lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino svt #svt smut #chan x reader #dino reader #dino fanfic #svt fanfic #sventeen smut #minors dni #minors do not interact

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uchispeach · 5 months ago

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Sycamore Tree (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, underage drinking and manipulative! Rafe…

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/non-con and violence. You have been warned.

You laid on your back as you flipped the dusty pages of an old magazine. The weather was nice and the sun kept your skin warm, helping you get the slight tan you were wishing for.

Tranquility was in the air, and you were losing yourself in it just as the fence croaked. Your focus was now on the brunette stomping her way into the front yard.

“Hi!” You greeted her effusively, ignorant to the frown on her face. Your lips parted in surprise as you saw her slam the door while dismissing you with a sigh.

Your shock lasted a few seconds, quickly recovering your soft smile. You knew better than to take your sister’s actions by heart. Kiara had always possessed a tough character, while you were the calmest one.

Your father was quick to follow Kie and you soon joined the scene as the shouting coming from the inside of the house became louder.

”I’m sick of you following me around like some bodyguard. I can’t even buy some records in peace!” She shook the tote bag filled with vinyls.

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this…you just have to gain our trust again” The look on your mom’s face was sympathetic; her hands reached out for Kiara’s face, a gesture she quickly avoided by turning around and running off to her room.

The slam on the door made you flinch and your head felt heavy as you thought about the different ways you could comfort your sister without making the situation worse.

(…)

”Please, don’t disappear in the middle of the night with JJ” Your brows furrowed while you begged your sister to be in line.

”For the eleventh time, Y/N. I will not run away with him!..not again” The taller girl shouted as she took off her seatbelt.

You tried to swallow your concern as you both stepped out of the car, your eyes focused on the illuminated beach filled with drunk teenagers.

“Wait!” You were too late to shout as you saw the brunette slipping away to meet with her own friends. Great, you thought to yourself. A party was the last thing you wanted to attend but Kiara was pretty insistent on getting you to cover up for her tonight; and you were too considerate to ignore her desperate request.

”Y/N!” A sweet scent filled your senses as you were pulled to the side by a smiley girl. “You didn’t tell me you were coming. I could’ve picked you up!” Jennifer interlocked her arm with yours in an affectionate manner and you slowly relaxed at her presence.

Jenny was a nice girl you met during your last year in high school, and now you both hung out occasionally, mostly during the summer.

“I wasn’t really planning to-“ You were interrupted by a manly voice. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all night!” A dark haired boy stood in front of you, muscles shining under his unbuttoned shirt.

You were quick to recognize him and the two other boys who followed right behind. The black haired girl stepped away from you, all to get closer to Kelce, who received her with open arms and a cold beer.

You were a bit confused as to why your friend was suddenly so comfortable around the Kook, chatting effusively with him while a slight blush colored her cheeks. A few deadly minutes passed by, until you were again included. “Oh! This is Y/N by the way” Her slim fingers reached out for your cold shoulder, pulling you closer to the little reunion.

“Well…” she continued to talk as she sensed you tensing up “…This is Rafe, you’ve probably seen him ‘round. And Topper, he’s Sarah’s boyfriend” The latter smiled slightly at the mention while the older boy remained stoic.

You looked at the Cameron boy with surprise, noticing how his blue orbs were already glued to you. His gaze was filled with shameless intensity as he confidently scanned you from head to toe.

His poker face slowly turned into a smirk, the kind of smirk someone makes after making a great discovery. “Kiara’s sister, right?” His voice fitted him perfectly, rough and deep with such a nice touch of huskiness.

You could only nod, feeling like a wrong move would lead to fatality. Rafe’s lips only stretched further. “We should get some drinks!” Your friend was quick to interrupt, pushing you all to the crowded side of the beach.

Even with your back turned, you could still feel the burning eyes of a certain blond.

(...)

“Do you want some?” You jumped at the sudden voice, earning a chuckle from the young man. You lifted up your face, big doe eyes staring up at a smiling Rafe. Then, your gaze unsurely traveled to the Mai Tais he held in big hands. “I don’t dri-” “It’s just one, besides, I hate drinking alone” He sounded truthful, leaving you with no choice but to accept the drink from his calloused fingers.

He let out a groan when he sat next to you on the dry log, spreading his legs and consequently causing his thigh to rub yours. The sound of a can opening was followed by a look filled with expectancy. You took the hint and opened your own beverage. “You know…” He took a sip. “...I got a little upset when I stopped seeing you around the house.”

You felt the liquid trying to find its way out of your throat, making you cough. “I kind of enjoyed your little visits.” You could tell he was being honest and that just made you feel ashamed. “Well, things just got…complicated” By complicated you meant unsustainable. Because everytime anyone mentioned Sarah Cameron around your sister it was like all hell had broken loose.

It was strange, Rafe Cameron reaching out to you, just to tell you he missed all those times you would go to his house on playdates. Mostly, because you never really interacted with him, just saw his younger face every now and then behind his bedroom door or on the other side of a huge dining table.

The blond only nodded, seeming to understand what you meant. “You look cute today” Such an inoffensive compliment and he still said it with a predatory smirk. “Pink has always been your color” He took the liberty of stroking the edge of your sundress.

You felt the heat rising up to your cheeks as you looked down on his fingers tugging at the fabric. “Thanks… I like your shirt. That-That cut looks great on you” Rafe threw his head back in laughter, making you want to sink impossibly further into the hard piece of wood.

“That’s what I like about you” He looked at you through the corner of his eyes. ”You’re always so kind…always having the need to give back.” His words were said in a serious tone, no playfulness between the lines.

A strange feeling installed itself on the pit of your stomach, tickling your senses in a nice way. Suddenly, the North Carolina breeze stopped chilling your bones. You felt warm.

You swallowed your awkwardness with a gulp. Doing your best to slow down your heart rate. “And…How have you been doing?” Your eyes were deep in his.

The can touched his lips again, staying there for a long time before answering: “Nothing has really changed, at least not for good” Behind his irises you could see some emptiness, and that made your chest tighten a little.

Fights, fits, constant shouting and scolding, you remembered it distantly. The Cameron household was far from perfect and preferences seemed to have been decided since long before you met them, leaving the blond boy in a disfavored place.

“Well…sooner or later, I’m sure you’ll be able to turn things around.” You wore a shy smile on your soft lips. ”So optimistic” Rafe threw back at you with a hint of humor. “Wish others had that same level of faith in me.” A dry laugh left his throat.

Your face looked for his, getting closer in a comforting gesture. “It’s probably hard to feel like you constantly have to prove yourself…” Your tongue spoke faster than your brain. “…to others”

The older boy’s gaze was deeply set on you, the intensity of it making you back away carefully. “I’m-“ His factions were still, almost making him look upset. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know why I said that” You stumbled with your own words. The regret of making bold assumptions clouding your head.

But then he talked, deep and clear for you to hear: “I don’t mind.” A warm limb rubbed against your back, followed by the feeling of his hot breath on your skin.

The Cameron boy had you secured by his side, with one hand lazily going up and down all along your spine and his body heat wrapping around you like a blanket.

His closeness started to make you feel dizzy, totally unsure on what to think about it.

After a few seconds, discomfort started gurgling deep within you as his hefty hand prevented you from putting some distance between the both of you. With no hesitation, his strength pulled you right back by the waist.

“I-” A loud noise made you stand up with a jump. “Did you hear that?” Your brows furrowed in worry as your eyes searched for the disturbance’s cause. Screams were soon to follow, as well as curses and rough words coming from young voices. One of them you were able to recognize.

Pope dragged a pair of sweaty and agitated boys. JJ and John B rooked rough, the latter one even presenting a few bruises and cuts. Kiara was soon to follow, shouting at the trio to move faster.

Your sister was frantically looking around, and almost like an automatic response your legs moved to join her. “Hey, let me drive you.” A solid grip was quick to take you back. Rafe had a decided look on his face. “I can’t, I have to go back with my sister” You politely shook your arm, trying to liberate yourself without seeming rude. But the blond had other plans, keeping you in the same place with an even tighter hold.

“Next time?” You said with a pleading face. Rafe’s eyes, with an unreadable intensity, pierced through yours. He seemed to weigh your words before nodding reluctantly, his fingers loosening their grip but not entirely letting go. “Alright, I’ll see you ‘round,” he said, his tone almost imperceptibly softer. He let go, but his gaze lingered, a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You pushed away the goosebumps of your last encounter, only to solely focus on getting as fast as you could to the brunette’s side.

“Kiara!” You were out of breath as soon as you reached the parking lot. Pope on the old van’s wheel while JJ struggled to throw John B inside. “Hurry up! You have to get out of here” The younger girl was anxiously leaning against the vehicle’s door. “What-” You were cut short by the sight of a metallic object.

Kie’s boyfriend was quick to hide the gun under the seat. “Come on. Before the police arrive!” Your mouth was wide open, shocked by the nervous display. You were too occupied trying to decipher what was going on, that you didn’t even feel your sister shaking you hard by the shoulders.

“Y/N, we have to leave. Gimme the keys!” Kiara groaned in exasperation as she saw you struggling to comprehend the words coming out her mouth. “Now!”

A/N: Characters are aged up. Reader is 19 and the Pogues are all over 18.

#dark!rafe cameron #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #obx smut #dark content #tw dark content #dark fic #dark obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x you #rafe fic

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wreckedandpolemic · 27 days ago

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bunny ears and devil horns - matty healy

(mdni) in which your halloween costume gets your boyfriend so riled up that he needs to remind you who you belong to. part of the white and gold universe and promptober75 2024. 2717 words.

You fix the devil horns on the top of your head, watching your reflection to centre them. The girl in the mirror smirks back at you, lips painted a shade of red that matches your lingerie. It’s scarcely more than scraps of lace, accentuating your figure with straps that criss-cross over your body. A garter holds up your sheer stockings, feet tucked into red-bottom stilettos.

Squeezing into the red vinyl minidress that completes your “costume” is more of a task than you’d expected, but the effect is perfect. You text Matty a picture of your outfit and what’s underneath, captioned happy halloween, daddy ;) do you like the dress better on or off? Matty’s response is immediate, flashing up his contact before you’ve even put your phone down. You let it ring for a moment, make him sweat a little before you pick up with an innocent little, “Hello?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, princess. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

You giggle. “You know, this is why I call you an old man. You’re an old man with a weak heart, Matthew, and I’m going to inherit all your money when you die.”

“Behave yourself,” Matty teases. “You look gorgeous, princess. Have fun, be safe, don’t talk to any boys.” His grin is audible, and you groan.

“But what if they’re gonna give me free drinks?” you pout, half-jokingly wheedling.

“Especially not then,” Matty answers. “Should just let me drive up there instead. I can buy you much better booze than some grease-faced twenty-year-old boy, and I’m definitely better company.”

You laugh at how serious he sounds, his jealousy creeping in at the edges of his tone. “Oh, you wanna be the only man I’m using for his money, right? But it’s so fun, and they make it so easy.”

Matty practically growls, a low, frustrated noise filling your ear. “Will you behave? Such a slut, aren’t you, princess? Been too long since I’ve made you mine, huh?”

“You know I’m yours. Makes it more fun, letting them buy me drinks and think I’m gonna let them get anywhere before I tell them I have a real man waiting for me at home.”

He laughs, low and rich and sweet. “Music to my ears, princess. Have fun tonight, yeah? Call me when you’re home.”

“You sure? It’s gonna be past your bedtime.” Matty only scoffs, adding a soft I love you that makes you pout and long for him. “I love you too.”

You drink and dance your way through the evening, barely paying for anything and always slipping teasingly out of your suitors’ grasp. And it’s fun, it is, your head spinning joyfully as your friends pull you into the circle, but you miss Matty achingly, painfully conscious of the distance between you, how long it’ll be before you get to see him, have him, again.

Sure, it’s a little codependent, but you’ve never been so in love. A year ago, this would’ve been your ideal night, drunk and dancing and flirting to your heart’s content; now, though, all you want is to curl up in bed with your boyfriend and a vintage red. A little melancholy, you duck out early, barely making it to midnight and hoping you’ll still catch Matty once you’re home.

There’s an extra car in your driveway, but it’s too dark to make out the model or reg number, so you shrug and fumble with your keys to let yourself in. Coming face-to-face with Matty helping himself to coffee in your kitchen shocks you almost into sobriety, your knees practically buckling as you throw yourself into his arms. You press hungry, needy kisses over his face in a way that’s definitely indecent for your shared living space. “Hi, princess,” Matty grins.

“What are you doing here?” you laugh disbelievingly.

“Wanted to be waitin’ at home for you,” he smirks. “Make sure you remember what your real man feels like.”

You tilt your head knowingly. “You’re jealous,” you giggle. “Saw how hot I looked tonight and got mad that a bunch of silly boys were the only ones enjoying it, right?”

“Just wanna make sure everyone knows who you belong to, yeah?” You smirk, taking his hand and pulling him along to your bedroom. Matty slams you against the door as soon as it’s closed, kissing and licking and biting at your neck with abandon.

“Don’t I look pretty, Daddy?” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access. “I want you to tell me how pretty I am, tell me everything you want to do to me,” you breathe, threading a hand into Matty’s curls and lifting his head. His eyes are black with lust when they meet yours, his lips swollen and spit-slick.

Groaning, he drops his hands to grab your ass, his gaze weighted and heavy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess. So pretty for me, and only for me, yeah?” You nod feverishly. “Had to get off as soon as you hung up the phone, angel. God, this fucking dress. Couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you’d look dancing, about bringing you home and getting on my knees, gettin’ you undressed and fucking you in just your belt and stockings.”

You moan, grinding against the bulge in his trousers; heat floods your body and drips into your panties, hunger gnawing between your thighs. “The shoes, too?” you tease, hooking one leg around him to press a stiletto heel against the back of his thigh.

“Shit, if you want,” Matty answers, lifting you off your feet and laying you on the bed. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, half to himself. “D’you mind if I take a picture, princess? I just— y’so pretty, so perfect.”

Eagerly, you nod. “You’re so sweet, so good to me. Make me so happy,” you beam. “Y’gotta fuck me like a whore, though, okay? Maybe I was a bad girl tonight, drinking and flirting with boys to make them think they had a chance,” you say, a teasing pout playing on your lips. You toss your head wildly, posing provocatively for Matty’s camera.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he smirks. “You wanna get punished? Get that pathetic excuse for a dress off for me, okay, princess?” He’s still standing at the foot of your bed, camera poised, when you reach up at him.

“Can’t take it off on my own,” you say, biting your lip and rolling over. “S’too tight. I’m stuck,” you add, deliberately playing up the porn dialogue and arching your back. You moan happily when he straddles the backs of your thighs, his fingers warm as they find your zipper and tug gently.

Torturously slow, Matty unzips you, like you’re a gift wrapped up all for him. A stuttering gasp leaves his lips as he pulls the dress off you, grabbing your ass and kneading like he can’t resist. He spanks you harshly, and you arch greedily up into his touch. “This fucking ass drives me crazy, princess. You want me to fuck you there later?”

Your cunt throbs with need. “Please,” you moan into the sheets. “S’all yours, Daddy. Do whatever you want with me. But make me hurt first, okay? You gotta teach your little slut a lesson,” you add, smirking over your shoulder at him as his eyes go black with lust.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he scoffs, smacking the inside of your thigh. Sweet pleasure-pain arcs under your skin, hot and dizzying. “You want everyone to know who you belong to, hm? Gonna make you scream loud enough for the entire city to hear,” he smirks. Without even waiting for the instruction, you shift into your favourite position for him; face down, ass up and ready for whatever he wants to give. You knead a lace-clad breast in one hand, pinching and rolling your nipple through the thin fabric. “Jesus, y’fucking soaked through, princess,” Matty mutters, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your dripping cunt.

You moan helplessly against your pillow, writhing greedily as you feel his spit dripping down your skin. “Daddy, please,” you beg. “M’so needy, so wet for you, I can’t wait any longer.” You gasp, entire body jolting as Matty leans down, licks a broad stripe over your cunt, kisses your clit.

“You can’t wait?” Matty says, mocking tone sending the need hammering in your veins into a fever pitch. “Greedy girl wants to get filled up and punished?” You moan out an affirmative, feeling his weight shift as he leans over to your bedside drawer and pulls out a toy. You hear him uncap a bottle of lube and slick up the toy, cunt clenching when he presses it gently against your hole. “You ready?”

“Please, Daddy. Please stop teasing. I can’t— fuckkk,” you cry, the suddenness of Matty slamming the toy into you sending liquid heat spiralling through your body. “Shit, yes,” you moan, breaking into a keening wail when he switches the toy on, the rabbit sending pulses of pleasure so intense at your clit that it nearly hurts.

“There you go, darling. All ready now, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, Matty brings his hand down to smack your ass hard. Every slap jolts the vibrator against your swollen clit, garbled whines falling pathetically from your lips. Your ass is flaming red and stinging as Matty brings his hand down again, pleasure coiling tight at the base of your spine. “Look so gorgeous all bruised up for me, princess. You’re matchin’ that pretty lace.” Your hips shift, at once desperately chasing pleasure and retreating from overstimulation.

Arching your back, you grind down against the vibrator, already melting into a slick puddle of need. “Daddy,” you whine, without even knowing what you’re pleading for. Pleasure winds itself tight through your body, your muscles tense and your head spinning.

Matty strokes the curve of your ass gently, smacks you hard, and you gasp, a high whine falling from your lips as the vibrator presses insistently against your clit. “Oh, sweet girl,” he sighs. “You gonna cum?” he coos, one hand sliding around to your front and gently cradling you. You nod helplessly, garbled whines falling from your lips. “Oh, baby. Go on, princess. Cum for me. You look so pretty when you cum, darling.”

One more hard slap to your inner thigh has you screaming, pitching headfirst into pure ecstasy. “Ohmygod, Daddy, yes!” you cry, face buried in the pillow as tears brim in your eyes. Pleasure clenches vice-tight around your organs, bordering on pain in your cunt where the vibrator still hammers against your sensitive nerves. Arousal drips down your legs, incoherent moans falling from your lips and heat licking in your belly.

Your cunt clenches as Matty pulls the toy free and you whine. “God, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your swollen clit. “You ready for Daddy to take what he needs, princess?”

You giggle breathlessly. “What do you need, Daddy?”

“Need to fuck this slutty little pussy, darling. Need to hear those pretty noises you make, fill you up, make sure you remember whose girl you are, alright?” Matty says, almost a moan.

“Please,” you breathe out, and the word’s barely left your lips before he’s inside you, your soaked cunt taking him greedily. Desire pulses heady between your legs, your back arching as you try desperately to fuck yourself back on him.

Matty’s nails dig into your hips, pain flaring where his body meets the sore flesh of your ass. “God, you feel so good, princess. Missed this sweet cunt so bad. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your own name, beautiful,” he promises, slamming his hips hard against yours.

Whimpering softly, your eyes slip shut as Matty’s fingers trail slickly over your wet clit. “Wish we could just fucking stay like this forever,” you groan, dazed and swimming in pleasure with Matty buried to the hilt inside you. You can feel him nearly trembling with the effort of holding still. “Give it to me, Daddy,” you plead. “I need it. Need it so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Such a little cockslut, princess. Want Daddy to fuck you dumb, right?” You nod frantically, whining out affirmatives as he traces his thumb over your hip. “S’it okay if I turn you over, darling? Wanna kiss my sweet girl while I make her stupid for me.”

Even though you agree, a whine slips out of you when he pulls out, just for a second, to flip you over. He smiles softly down at you, adoring, brushes a stray piece of hair off your face. Pouting, you arch up towards Matty until he gives you what you want; a slow, deep kiss as he fills you exactly the same way. Ecstasy floods your body, Matty’s hips slamming hard against yours as he drips moans into your mouth. “That’s my good little girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck. “Just gotta lay back and take it, okay, princess? Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“So good to me,” you groan, locking your legs around his waist and pressing your heel into his back. Matty’s pained little moan falls straight to your cunt, pulses in your ears, slick, sweet noises filling the room. “Mmh, Daddy,” you whine, high and needy as he fucks into you.

Matty groans into your neck, sucks a bruise into soft skin. “My sweet girl,” he sighs, covering his mouth with yours. “Always so good for me, even when you’re a little slut,” he teases, circling your clit as you thrash under him.

Wild, erratic pleasure spills under your skin, your body precariously close to its end. “M’your little slut,” you moan, threading a hand through Matty’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss. “M’so close, Daddy, please!”

Smiling against your lips, Matty pinches your clit softly. “D’you deserve it, princess?” he asks, low and slightly dangerous. You bite your lip. “Nah, I didn’t think so either. Luckily for you, I’m feelin’ generous, angel. I’ll let you cum…” You bate your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “If you beg for it,” he adds with a smirk.

“Please, Daddy,” you gasp. “Please let me cum, I need it. Need you, want you all the time, please,” you practically scream, dissolving into incoherent, wanton pleas as Matty fucks into you over and over.

Your pulse hammers between your thighs, cunt clenching desperately around him. “Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy. Soak my cock, yeah?”

He tweaks your nipple, kisses your pulse point, slams hard into you, and you break. Your body collapses in on itself, pleasure crumbling your muscles one by one as you moan out the only word you know; Daddy. Pure ecstasy wipes your mind clean, melts into a hot puddle between your legs, Matty’s body warm and grounding against yours.

You smile blithely up at him, scrunching your face when he pulls out. “Wanna paint these pretty tits, angel. You gonna let me?” Eagerly, you nod, arching your back to press your tits up towards him. Your eyes fall to his cock, slick with your arousal and drooling precum as he strokes himself. The column of Matty’s neck stretches beautifully as he throws his head back in pleasure, moaning sweetly. He chokes out your name as he comes, cum splashing across your tits.

“You wanna get one more picture?” you grin, and Matty nods with wide eyes, fumbling for his phone and breathing hard as he photographs you. You start to draw patterns in the mess across your chest, sucking your fingers into your mouth and cleaning his cum off them.

“Such a little cumslut, princess. Love how filthy you are,” Matty murmurs, leaning down to kiss you and moaning quietly at his own taste. There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanour, then, and you catch the moment with both hands.

Smirking a little, you reach up to tug on his hair. “I saw that, Daddy. It’s okay, you got what you needed, can just be my good boy now. I’ll take care of you,” you promise, rolling on top of him and pressing your bodies together. The sticky mess of him smears between your chests, and you kiss him softly. “I’ll let you have whatever you want, Daddy. Just gotta say please.”

#i’m actually. quite disappointed w this one #i’ve been wanting to write it since i first wrote white and gold and i bigged it up so much in my head that it can’t live up 😟#matty healy x reader #matty healy smut #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #writing #smut #white and gold #promptober75

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the-hinky-panda · 2 months ago

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Out of the Woods Series: Part I

Title: Out of the Woods Series

Pairing: Mitch Keller x OFC Reader (Sadie Maxwell)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: An old friend of Mitch's is in need of some help and Dwight seems to be the guy to do it.

Dwight has passed by Trudy’s Diner multiple times but never stopped into the place. It sits on Route 66, about ten minutes east of the Mayo hotel. It looks like a tourist trap; the stereotypical fifties diner with neon signs, red vinyl booths, and black and white tiled floor. The waitresses’ uniforms are shirtwaist dresses and colored flats, like what his mother used to wear when he was a little kid in Brooklyn. It’s loud, bustling, and old-fashioned in a shiny way. Even though the waitresses are sporting bobs and high ponytails, they’re carrying tablets in the pockets of their full skirts.

He follows Mitch to a corner booth where he and Tyson settle into place while Mitch asks for you. The perky blonde waitress says that you’ll be right out and breakfast is on the house for everyone. Now that he’s in the actual place, he has to admit the blending of old and new is quite seamless. There’s free wifi, which Tyson is happy about and the coffee smells strong and fresh, which he is happy about. Every surface is spit polished and all the uniforms are pristine. It’s the sign of a detailed business owner.

When you arrive at the table, he’s not surprised at how young you look, or that your outfit is also classic fifties but with high waisted pants and tucked-in blouse. You’re pretty, professional but that’s not surprising. He is surprised at how Mitch looks at you, like you’ve hung the moon and stars. Now he knows why Mitch wants his help with your situation, whatever that may be. But you return the look as well. There’s a warmth in the way you greet Mitch, lingering touches and choosing to sit next to him in the booth. Old friends, sure.

“I really appreciate you coming to meet me, Mr. Manfredi.”

“Dwight, please.” He shakes your hand and it’s a firm, solid grip. Another good sign. “Mitch tells me you have an issue that you need some help with.”

You fold your hands on top of the table. “It’s a multistep solution to a large problem but I’m not exactly sure which step you would be able to help with.”

“Well, let’s go through those steps and find out where I may be able to help.”

Plates of food arrive before you’re able to get into the nature of the problem. Eggs, hashbrowns, sausages, bacon, and something he’s never seen before. It looks like finely ground oatmeal but there’s a large pad of butter melting into it.

“What is that?” he asks.

“Those are grits,” you answer.

Tyson is shaking his head. “My mama would be so disappointed in you right now.”

“I think we’re all a little disappointed right now,” Mitch adds.

“Well excuse me for being out of circulation when it comes to fine dining.”

You put a healthy spoonful of them on his plate and hand him the salt. “It’s ground up corn, so very good with salt and butter.”

“What are you trying to do,” Mitch nudges you, “give him a heart attack?”

“Oh what,” you counter, “like you’re running a health spa over at the Buck?”

“You keep this up, he’s not going to help you.” Mitch gives you a crooked smile. “Your ornery is showing.”

You give Dwight an apologetic look but he raises his hand. “I actually quite enjoy this kind of ornery. Makes me feel like I’m back home, sitting around the kitchen table with my family.” He’s quiet for a moment, remembering those times with his mother and father speaking rapid fire Italian, thinking he and his siblings couldn’t understand what was being said. His brother poking his sister under the table with a fork and Dwight doing the same thing to him but with a knife. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good time at a dining table.”

Your problem is precisely as you explained it: it’s large but with a multi-step process. The problem is your husband of almost ten years won’t sign the divorce papers. You’ve been living in your own one-bedroom apartment, running the diner, earning your own money. You are, for all intents and purposes, independent from him. The catch happens to be who he is, or rather who his father is. Your father-in-law is filthy rich, first in oil and then in the medical marajana business. Your husband has been put in charge of two dispensaries but because of his own drug, gambling, and frequent need for out call massages, the business isn’t doing well. Your diner, a business that doesn’t remotely interest Cal Thresher Senior or Junior, is making twice what both pot stores are making.

Dwight leans back against the booth. “So you want a divorce from this jack-off and he’s not giving it to you because you’re worth more than him.”

“And daddy is pulling the strings,” you add. “And by strings, I mean he has the best lawyers in the midwest working for him. So even if I do get Junior to sign the divorce settlement, I’m going to be left with nothing.”

“Not to be unkind but it sounds like nothing would be something if it gets you out of the marriage.”

Mitch picks up his coffee cup. “That brings us to why you’re gonna want to help her.”

You sigh and glance around to make sure no one is listening in on the conversation. “My father has a business and he’s struggling to keep the doors open. I’ve been helping when I can but my finances get monitored too closely for me to do much. He was diagnosed with lung cancer a year ago and the medical bills are killing him just as fast as the cancer. I want the divorce, but I want to leave with enough money to save his business.”

“And I’m supposed to care about his business, why?” Dwight asks.

You give him a slight smile. “It’s a gun shop.”

#mitch keller x ofc #mitch keller x reader #mitch keller fic #mitch keller #tulsa king fic

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

AITA if I actively worsen my family’s sanity as revenge for worsening mine?

My family is that if two parents and three children (all in our 20s).

Without getting into deep specifics, basically, I’ve lost all the patience I’ve had for my family. My mom who is manipulative, my dad who is neglectful, my siblings who are egotistical and dismissive.

because I’m the middle child and oldest daughter I’ve been the brunt of every negative thing you could think of, and I dealt with it for… 25 years.

but this year as my New Year’s resolution I swore to treat them worse than they treat me. So every time my mom tried to manipulate me into feeling bad for her and to love her and to do the house chores, I threaten to kill myself and tell her that she was an awful mother and that if she really cared for me she wouldn’t ask me for things. (She knows I have mental illness that makes it hard for me to do things)

and when my dad puts my pet in danger I slap him and threaten to take his pet to a shelter to have him euthanized and tell him he should die alongside his pet (he is in his mid 60s)

I don’t do anything directly to my siblings because our relationship honestly isn’t that bad, but I did make a fake Instagram account that I use to call out one sibling for all the stuff they do to keep their image up or whatever (some bullying might be involved in their part)

and for my other sibling, who collects vinyls, occasionally I go and scratch up a vinyl they have. Just enough to make it seem like normal wear and tear, they haven’t noticed yet lol.

whenever my parents try to bring up my behavior to me I start yelling at them about how I’m crazy and they raised a crazy daughter and that everything I do is a result of their own creation. And my dad has offhandedly said to let a (female) pet die after she got injured once, so I bring that up all the time.

I tell him that since he hates women so much he should just shoot me like I know he wants to.

Over the past few months I’ve noticed that one sibling has become extremely paranoid, while the other has gotten very frustrated. My dad avoids me now and my mom is very obedient and quiet.

I don’t feel bad about this, and I know there are other things I could have done, but I feel like this has been worth 25 years of repressed anger. Now that the year is almost over, I’m considering that my New Year’s resolution be to try to fix whatever shit show has become of my family, but that’s not the point.

AITA for taking this revenge, or am I justified in paying them back?

the reason I don’t think I’m the asshole in this situation is that at least for the first several months, they tried doubling down on their bullshit. My mom got more manipulative, pulling out everything she could to make me feel bad for her and to submit to her again. And my dad became violent toward my pet, whom I’m protective of to the point where I’ve told every single person I’ve met that if anything happened to her I would kill everybody and then myself. (Luckily I was able to prevent my dad from actually hurting her, but the fact that he tried drove my goal further).

honestly, my sibling probably didn’t deserve it because we all pretty much ignore each other, but I’m holding the grudges from childhood when they would beat me up and break my stuff.

and before anyone says it, I went to therapy for four years and it just made me more angry

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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lulublack90 · 7 months ago

Text

Prompt 22 - Roommate AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 22, word count 938

CW - Pandora jokes about Remus getting murdered and dismembered.

Moving countries was scary. Moving to the capital city seemed scarier. Remus left his childhood home in the Welsh countryside and clambered onto the bus that would take him to London.

He’d wanted to move for years but had always been too scared. His parents had instilled in him how dangerous it would be for him not to know anyone for hundreds of miles.

One morning, while he was munching on his cornflakes, he noticed an ad in his father’s newspaper.

‘Roommate Wanted!

All bills are paid. Just pay for your own food.

Sexy, well-bred male looking for a friend/companion to share a house in a highly sought-after area of London.

Please use the number below to apply. Please, serious enquiries only. No, this is not a joke.

P.S. Must love Bowie, or we’re not going to get along.’

Remus quickly put his breakfast things away and, grabbing his phone, fled outside, typing the number into his phone as he went.

He settled under his favourite tree and pressed call.

“Hello,” A husky voice answered.

“Oi, hi. My name is Remus Lupin, and I—” He started to explain.

“Look, mate. I don’t know what you’re selling, but calling me at this ungodly hour is unacceptable. Goodbye.”

“Wait- wait. I’m not selling anything. I’m phoning about your ad!” Remus hurriedly spoke before the man could hang up.

“Oh, in that case. Hello, I’m Sirius.” Sirius suddenly sounded a lot more cheerful. “So why do you want to be my roommate?”

“Well, erm. I’ve always wanted to move to London, but I’ve been a bit worried about living there on my own.” He told Sirius, deciding the truth would be best.

“Uhuh, uhuh. Anything else?” Sirius sounded a bit bored. Remus knew he was screwing this up.

“I’m clean and tidy and don’t make much noise. I have enough money saved to pay my way—” Sirius cut him off again.

“All the bills are paid for. You only need to get yourself food.” Remus nodded even though Sirius couldn’t see him.

“Oh, right. I wasn’t sure if that bit was true. Erm, I don’t have a job yet, but I’ll start looking straight away.”

“Remus, I’m gonna stop you there. I don’t think we’re going to be a good fit. I can already tell you are the complete opposite of me. No offence, but you sound like you go to bed early and like nothing more than to sit by the fire drinking hot chocolate and reading a good book.” Sirius said honestly. He wasn’t wrong. What Sirius had just described was his usual evening routine. He had to think of something compelling to change Sirius’s mind.

“I have every David Bowie vinyl.” He blurted out.

“Really?” Sirius sounded excited now.

“Yeah, yeah, and I don’t know how you feel about T. Rex, but I have all there’s as well, and Led Zeppelin and loads of others.” All he could hear was the slight buzzing from the phones as the line went silent.

“Alright, Remus Lupin, you’ve twisted my leg. You’re the only person who’s called so far that I’ve actually managed to tolerate for more than ten seconds. So, let’s give it a go. When can you move in?” Remus sat there in shock.

“Really? You want me?”

“Sure, why not? The room’s all set up just need to bring some clothes and whatnot. I’ll text you the address, and you can let me know when you want to come. If you find it’s not for you, you can move out whenever you like. That sound okay?” Sirius spoke quickly, but Remus managed to make out all the words.

“Sounds brilliant. I’ll make arrangements and then give you a date.”

“Grand. Oh, and Remus, I really hope it works out.” With that, Sirius hung up, and Remus was left reeling.

“Oh, you’re totally getting murdered.” Pandora, his best friend, snorted when he told her he was moving to London and what the ad had said.

“No, I’m not. Sirius seems really nice.”

“Oh, sweet baby, you are so getting chopped into little bits and placed around London to look like a smiley face or something.” She’d clapped her hands together and jumped up and down on the spot.

“Gee, thanks, Pan. Love the confidence there.” He rolled his eyes and pushed down the panic that her words could actually turn out to be very true.

The bus was packed with holidayers, commuters and everything in between. Remus was glad of his noise-cancelling headphones and his favourite book. In a couple of hours, he’d be starting his new life. Everything he owned was in the compartment under the bus and was surprisingly little.

London was busier than he had ever imagined, coming from a tiny village. The noise and smells were overpowering. He got the tube from Victoria next to the coach station and rode it up to Islington.

He followed Sirius’s directions through a beautiful, tidy neighbourhood. Remus walked past a picturesque park and found the house. Number 12 Grimmauld Place loomed above him. It was far grander than he’d imagined. He walked up the front steps and used the heavy serpentine brass knocker. It thudded loudly against the wooden door. He heard scrabbling on the other side before a heavy lock clunked, and the door swung open to reveal the most beautiful man Remus had ever seen, flipping his long black hair out of his face.

“Remus?!” Sirius exclaimed joyfully. Oh boy, Remus was in trouble. He reached his hand out and shook Sirius’s before following him into the house, closing the heavy door behind him.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar au #wolfstar fic #remus lupin #sirius black #remus john lupin #sirius orion black #pandora lovegood #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #we're going to london #makes zero sense to me why but hey ho #don't answer weird ads guys #pandoras would probably be right if this was real life #cw pandora jokes about Remus getting murdered and dismembered.#roommate AU

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strniohoeee · 11 months ago

Text

Vanished

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Chris is struggling to come to terms with Y/N no longer being in his life. Stuck in the memories of the past, and having to fight with himself to see her again🫂

Warnings⚠️: None….I mean just heartbreak, so get those tissues ready😭

Songs for the imagine: Ooo Baby Baby- Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, All I want- Kodaline

Vanish

Noun

Disappear suddenly and completely

[Play Ooo Baby Baby]

“Chrissss you’re here” I shouted jumping off of my bed and running up to my boyfriend

“Of course my love, I wouldn’t miss your birthday for anything” he said kissing me

“Chris it’s just my 22nd birthday it’s nothing special” I said looking down

“Of course it is! To another year of health and happiness” he said hugging me tightly

“You’re amazing. What would I do without you?” I said pulling him tightly to hug him

“The real question is what would I do without you” he said kissing the top of my head

“Mmm probably crumble to the ground” I said giggling

“Something like that” he said laughing

“Oh babe! I got you something” he said pulling away

“Chrisss why? You know I hate gifts” I said tilting my head at him

“Well I know, but I’d never show up empty handed on your birthday. Now shut your eyes” he said tapping my nose with his pointer finger

“Fineee” I said shutting my eyes

I heard him walk to my living room and my brows furrowed as to what he got me. Truly hating gifts, but Chris expressed his love through gifts, so I went along with it.

“Okay now open” he said standing in front of me

I opened my eyes to see Chris smiling brightly and holding a vinyl record in his hands. I looked down and my mouth dropped as my eyes went wide

“You didn’t” I said grabbing the vinyl from his hands

“Oh but I did” he said smiling

“Chris I’ve been searching for this album forever, and couldn’t find it well, not an original at least ” I said looking at the album. It was Smokey Robinson’s and The Miracles 1965 Going to a go-go album.

“Trust me I’ve been searching for this album for months, and I’ve had to hide it from you” he said looking at me

“How did you find an authentic album….these are so hard to come by” I said tracing my fingers along the cover

“Lots of dead ends and lots of people helping me, and by people I mean Nick and Matt searching for hours and looking for a receipt authentizing them” he said giggling

“You’re perfect. Like this is the best gift I have ever gotten” I said hugging him again

“Put it on” he said kissing me on the cheek

I walked over to my record player and put the vinyl on. Hearing the little scratch it does before playing the song, sending shivers down my spine. I loved my record player

“Oh my god this is my favorite song” I said clapping my hands together

Ooo Baby Baby started playing and I shut my eyes letting the music take me far away.

“Dance with me?” I asked him sticking my hand out

“Babeeee you know I don’t dance” he said getting shy

“But please it’s on my bucket list to dance to this song with the love of my life” I said pouting

“Alright fine” he said dropping his head and standing up

He joined me as I wrapped my arms over his shoulders and his hands around my waist. We swayed to the music as I looked into his eyes.

“I love you, and I know I haven’t said it in a while” I said looking up at him

“You don’t have to say it, I know my love; and I love you too” he replied, smiling down at me.

“You’re the best thing that has happened to me” I said in a whisper

“I’m thankful I met you when I did” he said kissing my forehead

“I want to stay like this forever” I said looking up at him

“We can stay like this for as long as you want” he said laughing at bit

“If I could just freeze time I would” I replied

“I would too” he said in a whisper

I leaned the side of my face over his heart as we swayed to the music. Listening to the thumping of his heart as I smiled and let a tear slip from my eyes. God I loved him so much.

“Never leave me Christopher” I say in a whisper

“I would never” he said rubbing my head with his left hand

The song finished and we parted ways as I turned the music down. He walked over to my bed and sat down.

“Thank you again Chris” I said as I turned around

“Anything for you my love” he replied blowing me a kiss

I shuffled over to the bed.

“You okay baby?” He asked me as he began to scoot up on the bed

“Yeah my back just hurts today. I’ve been super busy” I said cracking my back

“Come lay down, and I’ll rub your back” he said winking at me

“I could never turn down one of your back rubs” I said winking back at him

I laid down on my stomach next to him, and he began to rub my back gently as I melted into his touch. Chris was the best boyfriend anyone could ask for, and I truly hoped he knew that.

[Play All I Want]

Chris POV

I sat down in front of her, my heart breaking and tears beginning to fill my eyes. I mean I just couldn’t believe what I was going through.

How I just sat here with her infront of me…so close yet so far away. I couldn’t come to terms that this was my reality. Oh how badly I wish I could turn back the hands of time and really hold on to what we had…. I really took a lot for granted.

Reminiscing on our past memories whether they were good or bad, and wishing so badly I could go back to that. If I knew our story had a bad ending I would’ve held on to her a bit tighter.

It’s been two months since I last saw her, and looking at her right now was making me sick. Wishing I could kiss her lips again or hold her tight against my body and whisper how much I loved her. God this was painful….

Silence consuming us as I sat here not sure what to say, or what to do. Struggling to find my voice as I racked my brain for words to express to her.

“It’s been a while” I stated looking down

“I wasn’t even sure I would be able to come here today, but I knew I had to. Had to see you one more time to finally realize that this is over, and not something I made up in my brain” I said finally looking up

“Your mom came by my house two months ago when she came to pick up the last of your belongings ,and she dropped off a letter you wanted me to read” I said, looking at her….waiting for her to say something

“I was so fucking hurt that I left that letter on my dresser for two months. I mean I couldn’t even come to terms with us being over, and you not in my life anymore. I couldn’t bring myself to read it, but I knew when I decided to come see you today I would finally have the courage to open up the letter with you” I said shaking my head

“Well…I’m going to open it, and read it out loud because I want you to hear it for yourself again” I said picking up the letter and showing her

I sniffled and wiped my eyes. Running my fingers over the cover of the envelope titled ‘Chris<3’….. I almost chickened out, but I came here for her and to be able to step away from us and move on with my life

“Well here goes nothing” I said looking at her as I opened the envelope and pulling the letter out

I began to read out loud

Dear Chris,

To my sweet sweet boy oh how I love you so much. I’m so grateful for everything you have taught me in life, and for all the love you have shown me. Before you I was so depressed and felt like I had no meaning in life. But when you came along you showed me that life is beautiful, and I began to see in colors again.

I remember the first day I saw you I thought wow he’s so immature and annoying….but look at us we ended up together. I mean that wasn’t on my agenda, but love has a funny way of finding those who aren’t looking for it. I sure wasn’t looking for love, but here we are you swept me off my feet what can I say.

I can’t even begin to describe how you changed my life for the better. I know we had our ups and downs, and we argued a lot (you are very hard headed, and I know you’re thinking ‘no I’m not’ right now, but yes you are!). I know you would beat yourself up over a lot of things, but Chris nobodies perfect. However you were the closest thing to perfect! So stop beating yourself up my love.

You’re very hard on yourself, and I don’t think you realize how great you truly are. You’re so focused on being perfect that you let life fly by your eyes. Take a step back and just enjoy what you have! Please don’t take life for granted.

I remember when I first told you I was sick, and that I wouldn’t be around for a long time. I expected you to run and leave me, but you sat with me. And we talked…we talked about life, and we cried, and we laughed and most importantly you helped me live life. I know a lot of days were hard because I wasn’t feeling well. You were there to help me complete my bucket list, and that I will forever cherish even in the after life! And when it was getting close to the end you never stopped losing faith and you never let me think about death. With you I was alive….more alive than I’ve ever been. I want you to know that I fought for you, and if you’re reading this it’s because I lost my battle. However I need you to keep fighting in life, and if it’s not for yourself then fight for me okay!

When you purchased me the Smokey Robinson and The Miracles album you made me the happiest girl ever. I know that you knew it was getting really bad, and I was at the end; but you never made me feel like I was dying. I’m thankful that you never treated me differently even though you were suffering on your own.

I know you said that after I passed you’d never date again because I was your soulmate, but I want you to move on in life. Keep me as a memory and a special part of your story locked away in your heart, but don’t close yourself off to love. When you find the perfect girl (which you will), and you get married my only request is that you dance to Ooo Baby Baby at your wedding! Make that promise for me.

Now I know you don’t believe in reincarnation, but I do and I promise you we will find each other again. If you ever hear Ooo Baby Baby just know that I am here with you. Don’t ignore it because it will be a sign of me.

I know you will be sad and in pain, but I want you to keep your head up and push forward in life for me. You will be okay one day. So once again thank you for always being there for my Christopher, and I hope to see you in another lifetime!

I love you with all my heart….till next time

Sincerely,

Y/N

I let out a shaky breath as I broke down sobbing. Closing the letter back up as I put it back in the envelope. Putting the envelope in my pocket.

Vigorously wiping my eyes and my nose as I broke down sobbing. I never cried in front of Y/N, and I’m sure she was looking down on me laughing as I tried to hide my sobs.

I inhaled shaky as I licked my lips and batted my tears away.

“Fuck man….you have such a way with words” I said looking back over at her

“Life is so unfair…I finally found the one thing I was so sure about in life, and just like that it’s swiped from my hands. If only we could’ve froze time” I said shaking my head

“I miss you…I miss you a lot. Most nights I wake up from this bad dream reaching over to grab you only to realize you’re not here anymore, and my bad dreams are a reality” I said swallowing thickly

“I know I always said I love you, but man if I could get one more chance to say I love you to your face. How your face would crinkle up and your eyes would squint at those words” I said laughing a bit

“God… I just I just miss you man. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep pushing in life, but for you I will” I stated as I fixed the flowers in front of her

“You were my best friend, and my soulmate. I’m going to miss our corny little hand shakes and our slow dances. You know I took your record player and the Smokey Robinson album. And I play it every night, often falling asleep to it. It brings me the same comfort your embrace would” I said as I looked at her

“Most mornings I wake up swearing I hear your voice, or smell your perfume. Hoping you’re going to walk through my bedroom door with bags of snacks screaming my name like you always did…..just hoping you’d wake me from this bad dream” I said licking my lips and wiping my nose

“But I think I’m going to go. It was nice seeing you, and I’ll be back more often” I said standing up

“You look beautiful” I said as I wiped the dirty and rocks off of her tombstone

“I miss you and I love you dearly, and I hope you’re doing okay” I said as I leaned down kissing her tombstone

“Until next time my love” I stated as I let my finger brush off her tombstone, slowly walking away.

I walked away wiping my eyes and taking a deep breath trying to gather myself. Unable to come to terms with having to walk away from the love of my life’s tombstone.

Never seeing her again was going to be the worst part of my life, but I always promised her that I would keep it pushing just for her.

My beautiful girl….oh how I missed her

5 months later

It had been a solid 7 months since the passing of my Y/N. It was still hard, but I was taking it day by day. Having my family and hers to keep me going in life. I still wake up from bad dreams searching for her, and that’s something I’m sure I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life.

I visited her grave every 2 and a half weeks. Just sitting and reminiscing with her about anything I thought of that reminded me of her, or memories we always laughed about. It truly helped me feel better about losing her.

Every corner I turned or everywhere I went something always reminded me of her. It brought a smile to my face but a pain to my heart. I began to believe that she was showing me signs of always being with me, and it made my heart flutter.

Three months ago a blue and black butterfly would always land on or near her tombstone whenever I was there. I swore it was just a coincidence, but when it happened every time I began to believe in reincarnation like she did, and started to think it was her showing me a sign.

Today I was heading to a flea market with my brothers to do some shopping. It was something they loved to do, but I cared less about. I tagged along because I hadn’t really been leaving the house. I figured I could use some fresh air

We were walking around when I decided to branch off from my brothers and look at some other things.

I landed on a booth selling old record players, and immediately my mind went to Y/N. Oh how she would’ve loved to be here, and I’m sure she would’ve bought one.

The guy was helping someone else as I was looking at the record players.

Suddenly I heard a record scratch and Ooo Baby Baby started playing. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my eyes went wide. I turned around and saw the record player in the far corner.

I walked over to it and looked down. It was an authentic 1965 Going To a Go-Go album playing. Just like the one I purchased my Y/N. A smile crept up on my face and I began to think about that night we shared dancing.

When suddenly something from the corner of my eye caught my attention, so I looked down. Tears came to my eyes when I saw a blue and black butterfly had landed on the record player. Not moving, just standing there with the wings spread.

I smiled and laughed a bit…she was right about reincarnation, and that I’d find her again.

“I love you” I whispered

And with that the butterfly flew over my left shoulder and was gone with the wind, and just like that it had

Vanished.

The End

YALLLL I BOUT NEAR CRIED WRITING THIS🥹🥹 I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it🤭🤭. Thank you all for the support, and I’m sooo close to 1,300 followers like WHATTT?? I love yall🤞🏽🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo imagine #Chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo imagine #Christopher Sturniolo X reader #Spotify

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