#just for everything to go to shit again!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 3 days ago

Note

For call of duty, can you write how 141 would react to you coming home after being announced KIA?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️

Not gonna lie, anon, but I genuinely read this as us reacting to the 141 coming home after being announced KIA, not them reacting to us coming home. I literally dumped everything I had planned and redid it because I missed that ONE word. (oops). Still, it's an emotional one. Your tears fuel me. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Task Force 141!f!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, reunions, fluff, kissing, secret relationship, established relationship, grief/loss, swearing, mild humor, suggestive themes, mild sexual content

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Reality isn’t fair. It’s not kind or forgiving.

A week gone and John is simply floating, going through the motions, simply existing. This is why you don’t date military while in the military. It’s shit like this. It’s being told the person you love is fucking dead and now you’re the one left to pick up the pieces.

There wasn’t even a body. Vaporized is what they told him. Instant and painless. You felt nothing. It’s a small comfort, but John would rather have you in his arms than knowing you’re nothing more than atoms.

He sighs, and then puffs on his cigar. Smoke curls around him. It’s all quiet on base. Everyone is gone other than the routine patrol. John sits alone in his office, looking for files for an upcoming mission.

There’s a soft knock on is office door.

“Come in,” he says, not knowing who it might be but it must be important for it to be this late.

The door clicks and then creaks as it opens. John glances up, the cigar halfway to his mouth before the world around him completely stutters to a halt.

A phantom—a vaporized phantom—stands just inside, one hand on the doorknob. You are unharmed—clean. No scratches or wounds that John can see and wearing civilian clothing.

John is already standing, already moving, unable to resist the urge to remain in his chair and write this all off as a delusion. The cigar is forgotten, probably burning a hole in the wood of his desk. You match the forward momentum, shutting the office door, reaching out to him. When his arms go around you, and pull you in, John realizes that this is not an illusion. You are real and alive and here.

“You’re dead,” he murmurs, disbelief in his tone.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—”

John grasps the back of your neck in a harsh hold, pulling you in for a kiss. He silences your voice, only needing your warmth and taste. You melt for him perfectly, answering the kisses with your own. With a gruff groan, John presses you up against the closed door.

“John,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“How are you here?”

“I’m sorry. We had to. It was the only way to extract me safely.”

John presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. “Never again. Promise me.”

“Promise, John.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

One. Two. Three.

The seconds tick by, and still, Kyle refuses to move. For the last two weeks, Kyle has been cold and distant, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the living room.

He doesn’t read, doesn’t return the numerous missed calls and text messages, and he doesn’t turn on the television. He just sits, staring off into space, unable to figure out where his life will go next.

Why you? Why are you gone and not him?

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You should be alive and whole and happy. You should be home, wrapped in Kyle’s arms.

Kyle sighs, running his hands over his face. An overwhelming wave of grief bubbles up, threatening to rip a sob from him. Leaning forward, Kyle rests his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The wave crashes against his resolve, eroding some of the numbness.

The coffin is empty. No body to bury. He still hasn’t contacted your family. He can’t do it. Can’t face them. That fact that he is here and you are not is a failure on his part. Kyle promised that he’d look after you, and now you’re gone.

Around him, the air stirs—shifts. Kyle rubs at his face, sudden awareness slipping in. There’s an anticipation in it—a tension.

“Kyle.”

That voice. He knows that voice.

Shaking his head, Kyle keeps his face covered, his breathing becoming ragged.

“You’re not real,” he gasps.

Phantom fingers lightly brush across the back of palm, traveling to his wrist. Another set join them, and two warm hands gently wrap around his wrists. They tug, and Kyle surrenders, glancing up at the delusion his consciousness is creating.

Your smile is a beacon in the dark. It is everything he’s dreamed up these aching days, only wanting to see you again. And this is no dream, this is the waking world—reality. Somehow, you are standing before him, grasping his wrists, smiling down at him with such happiness that Kyle doesn’t entirely understand how this could be possible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Kyle.”

He’s standing, wrapping you up in his arms. There is no mistake. You are here. You are here.

Kyle murmurs your name over and over again like a mantra. He touches you everywhere, needing to know that every inch of you is real and not a figment of his imagination. You curl against him, tears forming, threatening to fall and stain your cheeks. Kyle kisses them away, grasping the sides of your face to steal your breath.

You melt beneath him, and Kyle’s only desire is to keep you near him, to relearn your every moan and whisper. He can get answers later. Later. Right now, you are here, you have returned to him, and that is enough.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny made the choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s his own fault for caring about you, for deciding that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He should have found a civilian. That way they’d be mourning him and not him mourning you.

Three months and the missive still burns a hole in his chest. It’s folded up nicely, faded and worn from him unfolding and refolding it, tucked into an inside pocket beneath his bulletproof vest. It’s right over his heart. Right where you should be. Right where you belong.

The missive doesn’t belong to Johnny. It’s addressed to Captain Price, but the man handed it over to him, because he knew—even though Johnny did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to share what he had with you with anyone. That was just for the two of you.

“You all right, Soap?”

Simon’s voice cuts through the static.

“I’m aces, Lt. Don’t worry about me.”

The words feel false on Johnny’s tongue. He hates lying—but he especially hates lying to Simon.

Even behind the balaclava, Johnny can sense Simon’s frown. But the big bloke says nothing, appearing content with his answer.

“Price wants you in Conference Room B.”

“Now?” asks Johnny. “We’re supposed to transfer out in a few.”

Simon shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Just said he needed to talk to you before we leave.”

Johnny sighs but he goes, patting Simon’s arm before jogging to one of the main buildings. It’s inconvenient—and Price could have just met him on the fucking tarmac.

“What do you need, Captain?” says Johnny, pushing open the door.

Captain Price stands just inside the doorway. And he’s not alone.

At first, Johnny doesn’t understand. It’s like all but one singular bulb has been extinguished, the remaining light illuminating the one ghost in the room. Because that’s what you are. A ghost. Unreal and ethereal. Not reality at all but a simple hope in the back of Johnny’s mind that has finally blossomed into delusion.

“Soap.” Price’s voice is gruff. He sighs and then takes a step away from you. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

He brushes past Johnny, lightly squeezing his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And Johnny does not move. He stands in the doorway like a bloody git, unable to understand how you’re standing before him.

You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.

Your smile is hesitant at first, your movements even more so. It’s a tentative walk to him, and you don’t touch, you only gaze at him, eagerness and hope in your eyes.

“Johnny,” you breathe, and he knows that voice.

So crisp and clear and real.

Johnny reaches out, and pinches. He pinches your arms, your waist, your cheeks.

“Ow,” you laugh. “What the hell?”

You are not cold, but warm. Solid.

Johnny laughs in disbelief. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

Your arms go around him and suddenly, like a firework bursting with color, Johnny is happy and whole.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shuts the front door and frowns.

Whenever Simon comes home, Bravo always greets him. The all-black German Shepherd is a singular ball of energy, turning in quick circles and tap tap tapping his paws against the hardwood in anticipation of back scratches and belly rubs.

For the past week, Bravo’s presence has been the one bright thing, the only bit of happiness keeping Simon going. The rest of it was snatched from him, torn apart and shattered, scattered to the wind. The letter is tucked inside the drawer of the bedside table. He only read it once. And once was enough.

You are dead. That’s what the letter says anyway. And it infuriates him more than anything. Every mission you’ve ever been on has been with Simon. Except this last one. And on this last one, you did not come home.

“Bravo!” shouts Simon, dropping his keys in the designated spot next to the front door.

Removing his coat, he hangs it up, and then kicks off his sneakers. Sighing loudly, Simon heads down the hall but Bravo does not emerge. Simon pokes his head into the living room and finds no dog. Kitchen, and still nothing. He even checks the backyard. No Bravo.

As Simon turns into the bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s Bravo on the bed, and sitting on the edge—

“You—”

You hold the letter in your hands, attention turning to Simon as he enters. Standing quickly, you extend the arm holding the letter while you bring a singular finger to your lips, implying silence.

Simon’s stomach flips, and then twists quickly. He moves across the room a couple strides, grasping your waist and pulling you close. He says nothing, only searching your face as you keep that finger pressed to your lips.

You flip the letter over to the blank side.

Compromised.

Everything clicks into place. Either you faked your death or someone lied.

Simon cups the side of your face as you drop your finger away from your lips. His mouth replaces, tasting and seeking, wanting to remember. You open for him, accepting it all. His hands tighten on your waist and it takes every ounce of Simon’s control to not throw you onto the bed and rut like an untamed beast.

But he does refrain.

Simon has the car loaded and the alarm system armed in ten minutes. Even on the road, Simon doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can. All he does is keep his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly, attempting to ground himself and keep his focus on the road.

At the safehouse, Bravo takes off, running through the tall grass as you and Simon enter the barn through a small side door. The moment the bags are dropped onto the floor, Simon is on you, fisting your clothes, tugging at them in a need to seem them gone.

“Simon,” you groan against his mouth.

He wants answers. He needs to know what happened. But reconnecting with you is far more urgent.

“After,” he begs. “Please.”

You nod, understanding.

The two of shed your clothes quickly, falling onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Simon’s hand delves between, fingers finding your arousal. You’re ready for him—just as eager as he his. He makes no gentle effort, just a quick thrusts until he’s in to the hilt. Your brief gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, tongue delving inside for a taste as he starts to thrust.

This is what he needs. More than anything.

Talking can come after.

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@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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prael · 3 days ago

Text

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

#Sejeong smut #Gugudan smut #ioi smut #male reader #kpop smut #m reader #Sejeong x reader #praelmas #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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dorian-they · 22 hours ago

Text

and here’s a list from someone who’s made it thru more than 20 years of incapacitating suicidal depression:

- eat some food. I don’t care what it is. Eat it. Any food is better than no food. Preferably with some protein in it but idgaf. Food. Eat it.

- water. Drink it. Put it in a fucking mason jar or some other large container so you don’t have to get up and refill it. Use a fucking vase or tupperware or slurp it from a trough like a fuckin horse for all I care. Water. Large. Drink it.

- whenever you wake up, grab all the food/water you might wanna have for the whole day and put it wherever you’re setting up camp. Doing this when you have the most spoons available is crucial to steps 1 & 2

- pull-tab canned foods are your best friends. keep some cans & utensils by your bed for days when that’s your camp. Best options are gonna be fruits or veggies or protein, but again, any food is better than no food.

- put a toothbrush and/or floss within arm’s reach of your bed and/or wherever you usually set up camp when you’re awake. Scrub it around in your mouth whenever you remember to do it. If you have like $7 to spare, order some Parodontax active gum repair toothpaste online so you can continue eating food with the assistance of your teeth.

- take a daily multivitamin. Get the gummy kind if you want. Most multivitamins will get the job done but if you can spare the brain power to look at the ingredients just make sure it has several types of vitamin B (helps with depression). This will help your body feel less like microwaved shit and you’ll also feel less guilty about the types of food you’re able to get yourself to eat. Less guilty and less shit-feeling body are good. You can even order the vitamins online so you don’t have to remember to pick them up at the store or even leave your house

- do not guilt yourself about showering. Showering is a massive energy drain. Do it when you can, but that’s not the priority. Alive is the priority. Food, water, and having teeth to eat said-food with comes first. Aesthetics do not. If your body is smelly and it’s annoying you but not enough to shower about it, use a wet washcloth to wipe down the area or just slap on some deodorant and call it good. Dry shampoo is also a lifesaver if your hair gets oily

-if you’re not going out, wear the same comfy clothes every day. Or, if you can, just be naked, who cares. Decision fatigue is real and so is fabric sensitivity. Don’t overwork your brain with unnecessary shit. Again, not the priority.

- give yourself regular dopamine hits. watch a stupid video. eat a snack you like. play a few rounds of a cute mindless phone game. read a silly story. watch a show or movie or listen to a song you like, even just in the background. And yes, you still enjoy these things even though your brain hates everything rn. Go get your dopamine hits.

- and speaking of dopamine: if you aren’t sex repulsed, daily masturbation is basically self-serve serotonin and the happy chemicals still work even if you don’t get off so it’s worth it even if that’s a struggle. Plus if you do it before bedtime it can also help you fall asleep.

- lastly, if you manage to do any of these things in any way, shape, or form, take 2 seconds to literally congratulate yourself and/or physically pat yourself on the back/shoulder. Yes, I’m fucking serious. No I don’t care how small the task was. Say aloud or in your head “good job, [your name].” or if that feels too stupid just say “welp you didn’t wanna do that but you did it and now it’s done.” Just any way to acknowledge you did A Thing and now it is Done. Because unlike neurotypicals you have to coax your feral kitten of a brain into giving you happy chemicals after completing tasks. So congratulate yourself. Coax the cat.

if you managed to make it to the end of this, congrats on reading a long ass post about taking care of yourself. You didn’t have to read this, but you did, and now you’ve got some ideas about what might work for you or what won’t work for you. Good job, bud. I’m really glad you care about yourself enough that you took the time to read this

depression tips™

shower. not a bath, a shower. use water as hot or cold as u like. u dont even need to wash. just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. sit on the floor if you gotta.

moisturize everything. use whatever lotion u like. unscented? dollar store lotion? fancy ass 48 hour lotion that makes u smell like a field of wildflowers? use whatever you want, and use it all over.

put on clean, comfortable clothes.

put on ur favorite underwear. cute black lacy panties? those ridiculous boxers u bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? put em on.

drink cold water. use ice. if u want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.

clean something. doesn’t have to be anything big. organize one drawer of ur desk. wash five dirty dishes. do a load of laundry. scrub the bathroom sink.

blast music. listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.

make food. don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. take the time and make food. even if it’s ramen. add something special to it, like a hard boiled egg or some veggies. prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something.

make something. write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. even if you don’t think you’re good at it.

go outside. take a walk. sit in the grass. look at the clouds. smell flowers. put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.

call someone. call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. talk to a stranger on the street. have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. if you can’t, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. even if you don’t say much, listen to them.

cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them. take pictures of them. talk to them. tell them how u feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out.

#depression #depression tips #mental health advice #mental health #seasonal depressive disorder #seasonal affective disorder

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joelslastofus · 3 days ago

Text

[SUMMARY: Joel and you have broken up towards the end of your pregnancy until Sarah convinces you to come to Tommy’s annual Christmas party.]

A Christmas baby

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

Fluff jealousy childbirth angst

“Please come tonight, I really want to see you” Sarah spoke on the other end of the phone. You sighed brushing your hand over your nine month belly, the last thing you wanted to do was attend Tommy’s annual Christmas party.

You knew how much Sarah cared for you and how much she wanted you to be there but after having broken up with Joel just two months prior, it felt strange.

“My dad misses you” she spoke softly.

“I don’t know Sarah, there’s a lot-“

“Please just think about it, it’s Christmas. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

How were you suppose to resist? Besides Tommy inviting most of the neighbors and having nosey eyes on you, it couldn’t be that bad…right?

Since breaking up with Joel, you had seen him twice. You remembered coming out of your OB appointment and Joel sitting at the bottom step outside waiting for you. You hadn’t expected to see him there, especially being that he never made it to any appointments, constantly over booking himself at work. You remembered the arguments the two of you would have, sometimes you felt he overbooked himself on purpose to not deal with anything that had to do with the baby.

Maybe he had cold feet you thought, whatever it was it didn’t go well mixed with your hormones, your sensitivity at an all time high.

When you moved in with your sister Abby, Joel constantly called her to make sure you were ok. Every night you’d hear your sister on the phone repeating the same things over and over.

“She’s ok”

“I swear I’ll call you if anything”

“No shes not lifting anything heavy, Joel”

Sometimes you couldn’t help but crack a smile, Joel was always invested in making sure you had everything you needed but what you wanted more was his time.

Pulling up in front Joel’s house you could see the guests from the front window. A part of you second guessing what you were doing there, almost tempted to turn back. Then there it was again, a slow pain that kept coming and going from your lower back. This must be what Braxton hicks contraction’s were as the doctor had explained a week piror.

“You made it!” You suddenly heard from outside your car. One of the neighbors, Tilly spotted you just as she was about to go inside with her older brother Jim. Jim was a good friend of Tommy’s, Joel never seemed to be a fan of his, you never knew why.

“Guess I can’t escape now” you whispered to yourself before opening your car door.

“Here, let me give you a hand” Jim gave you his arm as you stepped out the car.

“You look amazing” Jim uttered low as you grabbed onto him. Not expecting his compliment you smiled.

“Thanks”

“That red dress looks great on you” Tilly exclaimed.

“Joel’s gonna be so happy to see you” she chuckled.

Anxiously walking to the front door, you stopped at the steps to adjust your dress.

“Don’t worry Jim won’t let you fall” Tilly whispered, excitement in her voice for her favorite day of the year. Just as you began to walk up the steps the front door opened, to your surprise Joel stepped out. Caught off guard he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, not expecting you to show up, much less holding onto Jim. You watched his eyes immediately turn to him, a stern look he couldn’t hide until Tilly’s high pitched voice distracted him.

“Joel! So good to see you!” He looked to her and gave her a nod, you could still see the disapproval he felt.

“Tommy’s makin’ drinks, ya got here just in time”

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice” Jim made his way up the stairs with you before you thanked him and held your hands together awkwardly. Taking a quick glance at Joel you noticed him looking at you but you didn’t say a word, neither did he, until you were alone.

“I’ve been callin’ you” he stood against the door, cheers and laughter could be heard in the background.

“Abby told me” you spoke softly. His tongue sliding against his inner cheek, there was so much more he wanted to say, you could see it.

“How have you been feelin’?

His question making you finally look up directly at him. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, the one he knew you loved.

“Um-it’s getting harder to walk in certain shoes now” you chuckled showing off that you wore flip flops with your dress. Joel smiled, something he hadn’t done much of since you left.

“Oh my gosh you came!” Sarah’s voice made you both turn her way.

“Hey Sarah,” you smiled.

“Oh my- that red dress is so cute on your baby bump” she grinned with excitement.

“Thank you” you smiled brushing your hand over your bump making Joel’s eyes soften as he looked at you.

“Oh uh- I’m sorry for interrupting dad. I just-“

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m glad to see you excited” he assured her.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind I really need to use the restroom. I’m going every ten minutes now” you laughed before quickly and awkwardly excusing yourself to the back.

Coming out of the bathroom you gave Sarah your sweater and purse as you looked around the room to all the guests there, you honestly didn’t know where to put yourself.

“Look at you, I’m glad you showed up!” Tommy approached you with a Santa hat and beer in hand.

“How are you feelin’?” Tommy asked as Joel appeared beside him.

“Well my ankles are killing me, my back feels on fire, she’s constantly kicking me“ you chuckled.

“but other than that I’m fine” you sighed.

“Aw she’s just excited to meet her uncle” Tommy laughed as he leaned towards your belly.

“Ain’t that right lil’ niece?”

“Tommy” Joel uttered giving him a side eye.

“What? Just a few more weeks till we meet, I’m excited” he took a sip from his beer before being pulled away to dance. Joel and you stood beside each other, his arms crossed as he laughed at his brother before looking over at you.

“How about we get you a seat,”

“Um, it’s fine, I’d rather stay here plus all the seats are taken”

“So, I’ll get somebody up” Joel looked back at the full room quickly eyeing who he’d get the seat from.

“No, no it’s fine” as much as your ankles hurt, you’d rather have stayed away from everyone asking you dozens of questions.

“You wanna lay down in our room for a bit?” His question catching you off guard.

Our room.

“Thanks, Joel. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some water though, I am thirsty”

He nodded, his eyes remained on you longer than he meant to, drifting down to your dress laying perfectly over your baby bump.

“You look beautiful by the way”

Your heart skipping a beat from his words, you looked over at him.

“Thank you” you whispered before he walked into the kitchen.

Soon you noticed Mary and Lisa heading your way, two of the most nosiest neighbors you had dying to ask questions the moment you walked in. Those two women never seemed to know when to stop talking. Quickly turning towards the kitchen you walked off doing your best to avoid them when you heard a woman laughing in the kitchen. Silently stopping at the doorway you saw Maria with Joel, she was known for many things with men around the area, especially married men. Her hand on Joel’s shoulder as he held your glass of water in hand, you felt a jealousy you had never felt before.

“If it wasn’t for you driving me home that night, who knows where I would’ve ended up” she laughed as your heart sunk. It couldn’t be, Joel spent a night with Maria? Although you and Joel weren’t together, it was crushing to hear.

“Maybe you can drive me home tonight again…?” She spoke with a flirtatious voice as her hand creeped to back of his neck when you accidentally knocked something down beside you. Both of them quickly looking up, Joel realized you had heard everything but before he could say a word you quickly walked out rushing to grab your belongings from down the hall. Joel quickly put the glass down and pushed past Maria following you out as your heart raced with disbelief and hurt.

“Sarah where’s my stuff?” Your voice cracked as she looked up at you confused.

“In the room, are you okay?” You couldn’t respond rushing toward the bedroom as Joel quickly followed behind calling your name.

“It ain’t what you think-“ Joel appeared at the doorway slightly out of breath as you grabbed your sweater.

“Hey, hey-listen to me, baby” he rushed towards you trying to get you to understand him, desperation in his eyes, his hand attempted to grab your face.

“Don’t!” You screamed, tears building up in your eyes.

“The neighborhood whore huh?”

“No, dammit, listen to me!”

“No, you would-“ you suddenly stopped speaking as a sharp cramping like sensation took over you. Leaning forward you winced grabbing your belly, Joels expression instantly changing.

“What? What’s wrong?” He whispered, his hand reaching for your belly just as the wave of pain passed.

“Don’t” you shoved his hand away and took a deep breath. Getting yourself together you put your sweater on and grabbed your purse. Trying to walk past him he blocked your way, a look of concern he couldn’t hide if he tried.

“I’m not lettin’ you leave like this”

“Like hell you’re not!” You screamed, the music and the guests so loud nobody could hear you arguing.

“You can go continue your fun-“

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

“Too late for that” you aggressively put on your sweater.

“I didn’t do nothin’ with her! She was with Tommy, he passed out drunk in the car I was the only sober one so I drove. She got out the car went home and that was it, nothin’ happened between me and her”

“I don’t believe you” you shook your head as a tear fell from your eyes. You attempted to push past him but he wouldn’t budge.

“I ain’t lettin’ you drive like this-“

“What the hell do you care?! Go talk with Maria since obviously you have time for her but not our baby-“

“You know damn well that’s not true” he grabbed your wrists stopping you from pushing him aside.

“Let go of me!” You pulled your arms back just as another wave of pain took over. Quickly turning away you leaned against the wall.

“Ow-“ you cried out. The pain more intense than you had been feeling earlier.

Joel quickly coming behind you making sure you were okay, his hands on your waist.

“Come sit down”

“No, no…it’ll go away like it did earlier” you whispered in between breaths.

“What do you mean earlier?”

You stood silent as you slowly turned to him.

“What do you mean earlier?” He repeated himself sternly.

“It’s Braxton hicks, I had felt them last week and the doctor told me it was normal. I’m not dilated-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell!” You winced again from yet another wave of pain.

“I don’t think these are Braxton hicks, you’re getting them to close together, you’re having contractions“

“No I am not. Just leave me alone” you squeezed your eyes shut unable to speak.

“Stop being so damn stubborn, we’re gettin’ you to a hospital”

“No!” You whispered with a gasp just as Sarah ran in.

“Oh my god-“

“Sarah, tell uncle Tommy we’re goin’ to the hospital” he called out to her.

“Is she-“

“Yes” his voice somehow calm as he had you hold onto him.

“Oh my g- it’s getting worse” you whimpered.

“I know, honey. We’re gonna get in the truck now” he caressed your face.

“Is this actually happening right now” you whispered to yourself.

“I think so, baby”

Tommy ran to the truck with his Santa hat still on, opening the doors for you and Joel as the guests all watched on in shock.

“I don’t have my bag! My bag, Joel!”

“I’ll tell your sister to bring it” he buckled your seatbelt and closed the door rushing to the other side. Everyone watched as Joel sped off, each contraction becoming more intense you screamed in agony as Joel kept beeping the horn. If you weren’t so distracted with the pain you felt you would’ve seen how desperate Joel became with each sound you made.

“We’re here, baby. We’re here” the tires screeched as he made a hard turn into the lot.

Everything happened so fast, next thing you knew you were on the hospital bed being instructed to push. Joel holding your leg up, you cried feeling as if you couldn’t get through this.

“I can’t-“ you shook your head as Joel stood beside you, gently turning your head to face him.

“Look at me, yes you can. I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ no where, count with me” Joel began to instruct you with breathing and counting as the doctor prepped for the arrival of your baby.

After all the pain and chaos that occurred, it was all worth it. After the end of it all, you had fallen asleep and awoke to Joel humming Silent Night. Still feeling weak, you turned to see him looking out the window as it snowed. You smiled just as he turned and caught your eyes on him.

“I think she likes this song” he whispered making you laugh.

“You read the book” you spoke softly as he looked at you confused.

“The book I gave you about dads during birth”

He smiled with a nod.

“How else would I had known how to help you breathe through all that pushin’” turns out he listened much more than you thought he did.

“Mhm” your eyes began to uncontrollably close, you were exhausted.

“Get your rest, baby. I got her” without a word you quickly fell back to sleep as Joel looked down at his daughter with tearful eyes.

“The best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given” he kissed her forehead and continued humming the song..

Tags

@moonpascal @katmoonz @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco

@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @ashleyfilm

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fan fiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fan fic #the last of us

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mywritersmind · 1 day ago

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CHOICES - LN4

new year’s eve edition

summary : Stumbling into an occupation restroom isn’t the way Lando planned to spend his last night of 2024. The woman playing with her lighter and wondering why she’s at this godforsaken party, thinks the same. It just so happens that the last five minutes of 2024 might just shape their whole 2025.

or : they hang out in a bathtub

listen up : no warnings!! happy new years loves!

words: 1540

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Fucking hell.” The man mumbles, stumbling into the occupied bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

I realize as he stands over the sink, bracing himself on either side and looking at himself in the mirror, that he doesn’t know I'm there. I clear my throat, not really knowing what else to do.

He spins around, swearing as I play with the lighter in my hand, “Sorry… I didn’t know anyone was in here.” He eyes my position, my heels tapping against the toilet seat and my ass promptly sat on the tank.

“Uh huh…” I run my fingers over the lighter again, the flame lighting up my face as he leans against the sink. He’s cute but not familiar. He’s wearing black slacks and a half unbuttoned linen shirt, a sparkly decoration around his neck and glitter in his curly mullet.

The colorful lights in the bathroom bounce off his face, a new freckle appearing everytime a new color lands on him.

“Can I just…?” I raise a brow as he points to the bathtub, not waiting for my answer before slumping down in the tub that only has a beer bottle and a sparkler in it. “I’m Lando.”

He sighs as I eye his unusual manner. I can’t tell if he’s drunk or just overstimulated. “I’m Y/n…”

“Why are you hiding, Y/n?” My name rolls off his tongue, his knee pulling up against his chest.

“Why are you?” I bring a cigarette to my lips, lighting it and watch his hand push through his hair.

He licks his lips, looking up at me with his pretty green eyes. This bathroom is lit up by shitty streamers and LED lights. I blow out smoke, motioning to him to take it.

He declines, “I don’t smoke.”

My eyes narrow as the cigarette comes back to my lips, “Yeah okay…” It comes out a bit more sarcastic than I was hoping.

“What?”

“I don’t think anyone else at this party would turn a cig down.” I shrug, my hand resting on my knee.

“I’m an athlete.”

I let out a snort, “Right, and I'm Hannah Montana.”

The corner of Lando’s lip tugs upward, “That would be far cooler than an athlete. But I doubt she smokes.”

I tilt my head, giving up and just putting the cigarette out. “I hate everyone here.” I say as his eyes run down my body.

They catch on my patterned tights before returning to my eyes.

“Looks like we’ve got one thing in common.” He smirks, leaning his head against the tile wall as I hop off the toilet.

I pop a few mints in my mouth and look at myself in the mirror, my hair messy and making me wonder if I should change it for my new era in the new year. I catch a glance of Lando in the mirror, “Why are you here then?”

I think he’s about to ask me the same thing, but he just shrugs, “I think my new year’s resolution needs to be, stop saying yes to so many people.”

I rifle through the draws and the shelves behind the mirror, just looking around as someone bangs on the door.

“Occupied!” I yell back as the woman groans and stomps away. “Ah!” I find a tiny perfume bottle and spray myself without smelling it.

When I look at Lando in the mirror, he’s looking up at me, smiling. I match his expression, shrugging. “I hate everyone here too. Just had nowhere else to go… shit saying it out loud makes it a bit sad.”

He shakes his head as I cross my arms and lean against the sink, “We’re hiding in a bathroom five minutes before the new year, you think that’s sad?”

This makes me laugh and when I do, Lando seems to perk up. I come and sit next to him, not caring that my skirt is riding up or the tie of my top is coming loose.

I sigh, “Okay quick, tell me everything about yourself.”

He raises a brow, “Why?”

“You don’t want to spend the last minutes of 2024 talking about yourself?” There’s a small frown on his face now, he’s got a good face.

“I want to hear you talk.”

I roll my eyes. What is with this man and being strangely attractive? “Favorite color? Green.”

“Same.”

I frown, “Lando you can’t just copy me.”

“I’m not!” He laughs, “How about Hobby? Golfing.”

I physically recoil, “I don’t know if we can be friends after that answer, Lando.”

He smirks, “You’ll get over it. Golfing and photography.” He pulls out a tiny digital camera to show me.

I take it from him as I answer, “Writing.” I snap a photo of him, there’s two left now. “What color is your underwear?”

“Trying to get in my pants, Y/n?” He takes the camera back, taking a photo of me laughing.

“Can’t a girl be curious?” Someone jiggles the door handle, “Red.”

“Black.” I cross my ankles over the side of the tub and tilt my head towards him, “You gonna fact check it?”

I laugh, “Seems like you want me to.” He just looks at me, no real expression except for his eyes flicking down my body.

“What do you do for work?”

“I write.”

He groans, shaking his head, “Your hobby cannot be your work!”

“Thank god you’re not a golfer.” He scoffs at this as I smile, “Fine, I junk journal.” His brow goes up with intrigue.

His eyes flash to his watch, “Three minutes.”

I sigh, “Favorite movie.”

“Notting hill.” I actually laugh out loud at this.

“Fuck off.”

Lando’s smile is so bright it’s making me feel happy just by looking at him, “I’m serious! What’s yours?”

“I- Luca.”

“Luca!?” He says loudly, “Like the animated film?” I nod, my cheeks getting a bit hot as he laughs, “I watched it with my niece the other day.”

I smile at the thought of Lando and a baby watching my favorite movie. I’m thinking of another question when he checks his watch and speaks again, “Thoughts on Mince Pies?”

“Disgusting.”

“Disgusting!?” He spits, “Get out of my face.”

I laugh, “They’re actually terrible! Something about them freaks me out.”

“You freak me out.” He mumbles, looking away as my jaw drops.

We go back and forth for a minute about bloody mince pies but are sucked back into reality when someone slams into the door.

“Fuck!” The man yells as Lando and I blink, then burst out laughing.

I look at Lando and run my hand through his curls, He doesn’t even look surprised. “I like your hair.”

There’s something so soft about the way he looks at me, “I like your tights.” His hand drifts to my knee, tugging at the thin fabric just as I get distracted by his arms…

He snaps the fabric back to my skin as I straighten my leg and smile, “It’s men repellent.” Usually, the bright colors or patterns turn men away.

“It’s not doing a very good job. I think it’s hot.” He’s smirking when he says it, but the way he looks at me makes me feel sick. Sick in a hot way.

He glances down at his watch once again, “Time’s running out, love. What book would you have me read?”

I raise a brow, “You want me to prescribe you a book?”

He taps his watch face, “Tick Tock, Y/n!”

“Okay! Uh… Atomic Habits.” He tilts his head, wanting me to go on, “It’s about sticking to your goals. You want a better year, right?”

He bites his lip as the sound outside gets louder, “Yeah I do…What’s your new year’s resolution?”

I hum, “Make better choices.”

I hear everyone counting down outside.

“Five… four!” Lando starts counting.

He nudges my arm, “Three… two!” I laugh and count with him. He grabs the disposable camera and points it at us.

“One!” Everyone screams, probably hugging and kissing people around them as the new year sets in.

I watch his thumb twist the camera, his finger pressing the button as I make my first choice of 2025.

I turn his face towards me, and kiss him.

The second the flash goes off, the camera gets instantly dropped onto the bath mat outside the tub, having served it’s purpose. I pull back, my hands still on his face and neck.

“Happy new year, Y/n.” Is all he says as my hands slip down his chest and catch on the flimsy necklace he’s got on.

“Happy new year, Lando.” I’m smiling big now as he kisses my cheek gently. My lipgloss is on his lips, cherry flavored.“One thing…”

I frown a bit, “Yeah?”

“So are we gonna tell people we met in 2024 or 2025…?” I laugh and look up at the ceiling. “I’m being serious!”

I close my eyes, shaking my head and wanting to shut him up with another kiss.

“We met on new years.” I look back to him, he’s smiling still.

Kissing a stranger might not have been on my 2025 bingo card… But It might’ve been the best choice to start off my year.

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando x reader #lando imagine #HAPPY ALMOST TWENTY TWENTY FIVEEE

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theseerasures · 22 hours ago

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imagine becoming friends with this girl--not like, super close friends, just on friendly terms--who seems destined to become an influencer. she's not one yet but she already has a following at the school you both attend and everybody likes her because she's nice to everyone and pretty funny. one day she starts hanging out with this absolute loser buzzkill sjw and at first you're like, fine, it's a good look to shout out smaller content creators, but then they just never STOP hanging out

one day both of them leave campus to go on a day trip and clearly SOMETHING happens, because right before dinner you get an emergency alert on your phone that her loser friend is on the FBI's most wanted list for animal torture? the popular girl's not answering any of her texts, even from her hot metrosexual boyfriend that she has, and no one hears anything until the next day when she goes Live and announces that she got a really big sponsorship from THE PRESIDENT, no followup on that thing where her bff apparently was a terrorist this whole time

the next few years are really scary because the terrorist keeps evading capture and like, commiting so many atrocities and the details always end up getting leaked. you're terrified in particular because duh, you went to school with that psychopath and apparently she was doing all these terrible things and turning into some freaky three eyed snake when you weren't paying attention. the one spot of joy for everybody's doomscrolling is the popular girl. she does an adread for the government at the start of all her stuff, but the content itself is just like. hauls and GRWMs and makeup tutorials with the occasional day in the life sprinkled in, which is always nice to consume after another horrific news cycle.

she gets engaged to the hot metrosexual boyfriend from school eventually and does an Engagement Reveal bc of course she does, and it's...really weird?? hot metrosexual fiance leaves abruptly halfway through and then the whole thing turns into like. this bizarre apology video, with crying and everything, only she doesn't give specifics or context AT ALL before it's over and she goes back to doing a mukbang with some of her fans and your old principal, who probably got her that government sponsorship. apparently some crazy shit happens to the country after that but you weren't really following it bc you were too busy talking with your friends about what the FUCK was up with that engagement annoucement. you all go back through her history to figure out what problematic thing she might have done but you can't find anything, other than being friendly with the terrorist chick when you were all in school. obviously she couldn't have known about the terrorism back then, so it might just be drama farming. she's a pretty bad actor

except she doesn't post again for a few days, which is worrying since she's ALWAYS followed a super strict upload schedule, but the country is pretty much on fire at that point, so. when she next posts you're pretty excited, because maybe you'll get an explanation for some/any of this, or preferably a sequel drama video

instead she tells you that the terrorist chick is dead, the president is. resigning? leaving? also dead? and he never sponsored any other influencers, which means she's president now, and after she throws your old principal in jail she's gonna teach everybody how to be nice

#wicked

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cruel-seduction · 2 days ago

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Bloodstained Knuckles, Burning Lips

DESCRIPTION:

You and Mattheo Riddle have been at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember. But when your best friend casually drops the bomb that Mattheo threw punches for your dignity, everything shifts. Was it just a reckless fight—or is there something simmering beneath the surface?

CONTAINS:

Enemies-to-lovers tension, aggressive confrontations, messy emotions, kiss, and curse words if that counts bad.

The chill of the Astronomy Tower was biting, a sharp contrast to the fiery ache in Mattheo’s knuckles. His hands were scraped and swollen, flecks of dried blood caked around his fingernails. His lip sported a fresh cut, a slow trickle of crimson staining the corner of his mouth. He leaned against the cold stone wall, head tilted back, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The faint sting of bruises on his ribs and the sharp throb in his temple weren’t enough to distract him from the lingering fury in his chest.

That bastard. He could still hear the vile words, the way they spilled so casually from the other boy’s mouth, as if you weren’t worth defending. As if Mattheo could ever let that slide. His fists tightened at the memory, his jaw clenching so hard it ached.

The door to the Astronomy Tower creaked open, snapping Mattheo from his thoughts. He expected to see a professor or maybe a curious student wandering too far past curfew. What he didn’t expect was you.

You stormed in, breathless and furious, your wand clenched tightly in one hand. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit space until they landed on him. He froze under your gaze, his usual bravado faltering at the raw concern laced with anger etched across your face.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Mattheo?” you snapped, marching toward him.

He raised an eyebrow, attempting to mask the exhaustion weighing him down. “Nice to see you too, princess. Didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Don’t give me that,” you shot back, pointing a finger at him. “I just heard you beat the shit out of someone in the Great Hall. Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Mattheo shrugged, the movement stiff. “He deserved it.”

“Deserved it? Mattheo, you look like you’ve been hit by a damn Bludger!”

“It’s not that bad,” he muttered, trying to push off the wall, but the sudden wave of dizziness forced him to lean back again.

You noticed the way he winced, how his breathing hitched, and your anger flared hotter. “What part of this isn’t bad? You’re bleeding, your face is a mess, and I heard someone say your hand crunch when you hit him!”

Mattheo smirked, though it lacked his usual charm. “Yeah, well, his face is worse.”

“That’s not the point!” you shouted, exasperated.

“I didn’t need to stand there and listen to him talk shit about you,” Mattheo said suddenly, his voice low but steady. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the anger in the room seemed to still.

Your heart stuttered at the confession, but you pushed past it. “I can take care of myself! I don’t need your charity, you fucker!”

Mattheo flinched at your words, his eyes narrowing defensively. “It’s not charity,” he said, his voice sharp. “I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.”

You threw your hands in the air. “And now you’re up here bleeding everywhere like a fucking idiot! You’re not invincible, Mattheo!”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” he snapped, turning his head away.

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm, but he jerked away violently. “Don’t touch me with your filthy hands,” he spat, his tone icy.

Your breath hitched at the venom in his voice, but you refused to back down. “Listen here, you little piece of shit,” you growled, your voice trembling with anger and something far deeper. “I don’t like you doing this either, but I’m not going to let you suffer when I know I can help you”

Mattheo’s jaw clenched, his fists twitching at his sides as he stared at the ground, avoiding your gaze. You were too close now, your presence like a pressure in the air around him. He hated it—how your words pierced through him, how your anger wasn’t just frustration but genuine concern. It clawed at the walls he’d built around himself.

“Why do you care so much?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “You hate me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Yeah, I do. So do you but you still fought for my dignity. You’re also arrogant, reckless, and insufferable. But I’m not about to let you bleed out on some freezing tower because you fought for me.”

“So you’re doing all of this because you think you owe me? Such a martyr,” he said dryly, but there was no bite to his words. He felt deeply hurt that you don’t feel anything for him but so did you, you didn’t wanna express that you felt like a princess when he fought for you. And that you would go against the whole world for him but that’s not the point.

You dropped to your knees in front of him, ignoring the cold stone pressing against your legs. “Let me see your hand,” you demanded, your tone softening slightly.

Mattheo hesitated, his dark eyes flicking to yours. There was something unreadable in his expression, a vulnerability that he tried to hide behind his usual smirk. But when you reached out again, he finally relented, holding out his bloodied hand.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of it, bruised and swollen, the knuckles split open. “God, Mattheo,” you whispered, your voice wavering. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

He watched as you carefully traced your fingers over his hand, your touch surprisingly gentle despite your earlier fury. He winced slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

“Because someone had to shut him up,” he said after a long pause, his voice quieter now.

Your movements stilled as you looked up at him, your eyes locking. “You’re an idiot,” you said, but there was no venom in your words anymore—just a soft, aching sort of frustration.

“And you’re a princess,” he shot back, but his lips curved into the faintest of smirks.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Hold still,” you said, pulling out your wand. “I’m going to fix this, and you’re going to let me. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered sarcastically, but he didn’t resist as you murmured a soft healing charm over his knuckles.

The warm light from your wand illuminated his face, and for the first time, you noticed just how exhausted he looked. The fight, the cold, the weight of whatever demons he carried—it all seemed to settle heavily on his shoulders.

“Why do you always have to make things so difficult?” you asked softly, your fingers lingering on his now-healed hand.

Mattheo’s smirk faded, his gaze dropping to where your hands rested against his. “Maybe I don’t know how to make things easy,” he admitted, his voice rough.

Your heart twisted at his words, the unspoken pain behind them. For a moment, the space between you seemed to shrink, the tension shifting into something neither of you could name.

“You can be so fucking stupid, you know that?” you muttered, a slight tremor in your voice as your hands clenched into fists. “I don’t get you, Mattheo. One second, you’re acting like you don’t care, and the next, you’re throwing punches for me. And it doesn’t make any sense.”

Mattheo finally met your gaze, his dark eyes sharp despite the weariness that hung around him. “You think I did it for you?” His voice was a low growl, but there was something different in it now—something that made your heartbeat a little faster.

You took a step closer to him, crossing your arms. “You just proved that you can’t stand people talking shit about me. But you’re too damn proud to admit you care. You think I don’t see that?”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” You leaned in a little, voice softening but still filled with anger. “Because, as much as I hate you, I know that if anyone else had said that shit, you wouldn’t have lifted a finger.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “You really are an idiot.”

Your eyes narrowed at the sound, and before you knew it, you reached forward, grabbing him by the collar and jerking him toward you. “I never asked for your protection, Mattheo,” you spat. “But I know when someone’s too damn proud to admit anything.”

For a long moment, his gaze softened, the anger in his eyes flickering out as he stared at you. The air between you both crackled with the unspoken tension, the kind of tension that had always existed between you—sharp, unyielding, and filled with more heat than either of you had been willing to admit.

And then, in an instant, everything shifted.

Mattheo’s hand shot up, grabbing your wrist, and for a split second, you thought he was going to throw you off. But instead, he pulled you closer. His breath was warm against your face as he closed the space between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

The fight had died between you both, replaced with something much more volatile. Something that neither of you had the courage to face until now. And before either of you could stop it, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was messy, desperate, and filled with a need that had been building for so long neither of you could deny it any longer. His hands were on you in an instant, pulling you closer, as though he feared you might slip away if he let go for even a second. Your lips moved together with a force that was both fury and longing, a collision of emotions that neither of you were ready to face.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathing heavily, bodies pressed close as though the world might fall apart if you weren’t touching. Mattheo’s forehead rested against yours, and for a brief moment, everything was quiet. The storm of words, of anger, and of confusion had vanished, leaving only the lingering heat between you.

He was the first to speak, his voice raw. “You don’t make this easy, do you?” You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You started it, Riddle.”

“Looks like I made someone’s heart race for me,” he drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips, sharp enough to carve its place in your memory.

“Fuck you, asshole,” you shot back, your voice laced with defiance, but the words felt more like an invitation than an insult. Without a second thought, you crashed your lips against his, the heat between you igniting in an instant. You slid onto his lap, hands gripping his shoulders, as if the tension between you could only be resolved in that wild, desperate kiss

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle fanfic #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #draco malfoy #mattheo fluff #mattheo riddle drabble #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle scenarios #slytherin boys x reader

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rafeyscurtainbangs · 2 days ago

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𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟜 – 𝕋𝕨𝕚𝕟 ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕖 𝔽𝕚𝕔 (𝓕𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓵 𝓓𝓻𝓸𝓹)

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

Part 1 𝜗𝜚 Part 2 𝜗𝜚 Part 3

𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 3 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 12/27

𝙲𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚞𝚣𝚣𝙲𝚞𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝙵!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Warning: language, verbal + physical fighting, graphic violence, blood mentioned, pet names, jealous!rafe, kissing, angst, manipulation, multiple povs, cheating, SMUT warning later

📖 After meeting Rafe's (CurtainBangs!) twin brother Cam (BuzzCut!) for the first time, Rafe gives you a proposal you can't help but accept: sharing you. What Rafe didn't expect was his jealousy… And what you didn't expect was a text from Cam a week later wanting to see you again. Rafe told you it was ‘okay’ if Cam stopped by. During the Skype convo, you realize that Rafe has no idea that his brother is there… Cam placed the original call. Rafe thinks you’re alone, and you leave it that way

Reader’s POV:

You glance at Cam, his wide eyes on yours, reflective and remorseful, but his face only adds to your anxiety. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. You reach for Rafe’s jersey and your panties, tugging them back on as tears well in your eyes.

“Cam, why did you—why did you do that?” You whisper, your voice is shaky with nerves. “Why would you pretend to be Rafe? Why would you lie to me like that?”

He shrugs defeatedly. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“You weren’t,” you whimper, avoiding his gaze as you tug on some sleep shorts, stumbling slightly as your body trembles. The weight of your deceit is suffocating, wearing heavily on your heart. Nothing is fine…

“I’m sorry. I don't know what else to say. I just couldn't stop thinkin’ about you, and I knew he was only going to get in the way-”

“As he should, Cam! You came in here? Why the fuck wouldn’t you have stayed out in the living room? This is bad enough on its own! Just fuckin’ leave.” Cam walks toward you, wrapping himself up in your arms. You bury your head in his chest, trying to fight him away but he just holds you tighter.

“I didn’t want to make things worse,” he says quietly, his voice calm but firm. “I know you don’t want me to leave.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words don’t come out. He’s right—part of you wanted him here. You’ve been thinking about it since the second he left. But that didn’t change anything… “No,” you whimper, your voice cracking with the emotion you’re trying to hold back. “I don’t want this… I don’t want this mess,” you whisper. “You and Rafe got me into this shit, and now everything feels like it’s falling apart. Rafe and I… we were so fuckin’ happy, Cam,” you whisper as tears start to glass in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles softly against your skin. “We never wanted you to feel this way, baby. It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all.”

You can hear the emotion in his words, the desire to pull away, and the desperation to hold on, pulling you in two directions.

“Just please… Just let Rafe and I work this out in the morning, alright? You don’t gotta worry about it. I don’t want to go anywhere, and I fuckin’ won’t. Rafe doesn’t want to lose you… He’d do anything for you. We got you into this mess. We will figure it out. Okay?”

You take a deep breath, completely overwhelmed by the moment. You had no idea what would happen next. Cam made it seem so easy—his thoughts about how Rafe would act if they just talked it out flowed so smoothly from his mouth; it’s almost like he believed that lie himself.

Cam was here… And a part of you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go.

The darkness is exchanged for the day, soft light bleeding through the blinds as the sounds of the morning creeps through the cracked window. You shift slightly, letting out a lazy stretch, watching Cam’s hand move across your hip, making you freeze. The gravity of the situation sets in. You reach for your phone, checking the time, your head quickly snapping to the door as you hear a set of keys jiggle in the lock.

Your heart skips a beat with the creaking of the hinges, Rafe’s heavy feet moving along the hardwood floor; the thud of his bag landing shortly after. You tap Cam fast before scrambling to your feet, panic flooding your body. “Holy shit,” you whisper under your breath as you walk toward the closed door.

“Baby, you here?”

You push open the door, taking a step into the living room. Rafe’s smile doubles when he sees you. You feel the blood drain from your face as his demeanor shifts. He stands there stunned, his chest rising and falling slightly as his world crashes around him with Cam standing behind you.

“The fuck is happening?”

You reach for a breath, filling your lungs with air as you search for the words that will make this better, but there’s nothing that can make this better. Rafe stands there, his face unreadable for the moment, waiting for either of us to speak before something cracks.

“I said, ‘What the fuck is happening, huh?’” Rafe’s voice echoes through the house, hitting your chest hard.

“I’ll handle this, baby,” Cam says softly, his words sending chills down your spine as he steps around you, his eyes locked on Rafe’s and Rafe’s on his. Even the simple term of endearment felt wrong–hearing him say it so casually in front of Rafe. That simple name that let Rafe know that this was anything but casual for either of you.

“The fuck did you call her?” He asks in disgust, his voice tight with anger and confusion.

“What, you gettin’ jealous now?”

“Jealous?” Rafe’s voice raises, veins protruding as he steps toward the confrontation. “I’m not jealous of fuckin’ shit. Jealous? Jealous of you and MY fuckin’ girlfriend?”

Cam doesn’t flinch, taking a step closer as well. “Well, we both know she’s not just yours. So yeah. Think I'll call her whatever the fuck I like.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and everything went dead silent for the moment.

“Rafe-”

“Don't,” Cam stops you, putting a hand up, pleading with you to stop before you can say anything, his eyes soft and gentle, taking an entirely different approach with you. Rafe’s hands balled into fists, his muscles tight; face red. “You need to get the fuck out,” he spits, his voice low and lethal.

Cam doesn't budge; his posture relaxed. He’s probably the only person in the world who wouldn’t be cowering now. Rafe’s body language matches Cam’s, their emotions like looking in a goddamn mirror.

“Not goin’ anywhere,” Cam breathes.

“Rafe,” you gasp as Rafe’s fist shoots out, connecting with his brother’s jaw, making him struggle back, your stomach turning at the sound of it. Cam lunges at Rafe, pushing him back, making him hit the counter, and pictures and items crash to the floor.

The fight became a storm of punches, shoves, and sheer chaos as you watched in horror, neither of them showing any signs of backing down at all as you yelled and screamed for them to stop.

It was a fair fight–each landed jab met with equal force. Your hand clasps over your mouth as you watch your boyfriend go at it. You’ve seen him fight plenty; Rafe always gets the upper hand and fast. But not now… They don’t stop; their faces a mess of blood and bruises, lips split, noses bleeding, but neither seems to care.

That tension… That frustration that you felt all week was clearly felt by the boys as well. Mixing their jealousy on top of it… this was bound to happen. You try to stop them one last time, knowing the only way to tear these two dogs apart would be to leave.

Tears well in your eyes as you grab your keys and head toward the door,. Just as you reach the it, everything stops; just the sounds of their heavy breathing fill the space around you. “You can’t be serious?” Rafe pants, his voice breaking with anger. “Gonna fuck my brother. Walk out and not say shit to me?” Rafe’s voice bellows through the house. You turn around, matching his darkened eyes as tears of shame and sadness slip down your cheeks.

“You guys are scaring me, alright?” You cry. “I just wanted you to stop.”

“M’sorry, princess,” Cam pants, and Rafe shoves his fist against his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt as he pulls it tight.

“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth.”

“Yeah, bitch? Or what?” Cam spits with a cruel smile as he steps closer, pushing his forehead against Rafe’s.

“STOP! Just fucking stop, alright?” You scream, making both of them turn to you. “Look at you guys. What the fuck is happening right now?” You ask, your voice laced with tears. “This whole situation is a fucking mess. And you both ruined everything. EVERYTHING!”

You turn your attention to Cam, walking toward him, pressing your finger into his chest as your heart hammers. “You lied about that fucking phone call, Cam.”

“What phone call?” Rafe asks weakly.

“You shouldn’t be here!” You continue. “I trusted you… You pretended to be your own brother. You came into the room and blindsided me mid-conversation. I can’t help how I feel about you, alright? I’m sorry that I feel something for you after that night. But I fucking do. Okay? Okay?” You scream, turning your attention from Cam to Rafe. “You know that I love you, Rafe… But you also know there’s something between him and me, and I can’t fuckin’ stop. And Cam… Jesus Christ. You keep putting me in situations, tempting me where if I turn you down I lose you.”

“I’m sorry I-” Cam starts.

“No fuck you. Keep your fucking sorrys to you self. And you,” your eyes cut to Rafe. “You ruined everything. If you wanted me to yourself, why would you put me through this in the first place, huh? You made me fucking beg for this, Rafe. And then, even after I begged, you said ‘it wasn’t enough,’ you wanted me to beg some more. If I meant so much to you, why the HELL would you even suggest this? You knew I was worried. You said ‘that night wouldn’t change anything,’ and I fucking believed you.”

“Just calm down, alright-”

“I told you I was worried!” You interject, voice shattered as you choke out your words. “I said that this isn’t something you do with a girlfriend. This seems like something you would do with some random girl at a bar. Not someone you wanted to be with forever. You said, ‘It was just going to be a fun night…’”

“I didn't think this would happen…”

“You messed me up, Rafe. I caught feelings for your brother and I love you. You put me in this situation, and now we’re fucked.”

Rafe’s face goes pale, his jaw clenched tightly as he looks at you, trying to comprehend what you’re saying.

Your bottom lip quivers as you blink away your tears, tugging off Rafe’s gold family ring before resting it on the counter. His eyes soften with hurt and anger. “You’re actin’ like you didn’t just sleep with my brother when I told you last week that I was jealous.”

“Yeah, Rafe? And when I told you ‘we don’t have to do that again’ and ‘I won’t talk to Cam,’ you said that ‘it wasn’t necessary and you just want me to remember who I belong to’.”

“Mhmm-yeah,” he huffs as he steps a little closer. “And I told you ‘I didn’t want him talking to you without me,’ and you fucked him…” His nostrils flare as tears brim in his waterline.

“We didn’t,” Cam mumbles.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP,” Rafe screams back at his brother before turning his attention back to you, taking a deep breath. “You did somethin’ I know you did,” he softens his tone, hurt and accusatory, cutting right through you. “I need a fuckin’ answer, alright? Me or him?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, not giving him the quick answer he was looking for.

“JESUS FUCK. I can’t believe I’m even askin’ you this twice. ME OR HIM?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

“How the FUCK you not know, huh? I am so fucking sure about you. How the hell do you not know?”

“Because, Rafe… We’re not going through the same shit. You have no idea what this feels like for me. I’m fuckin’ spiraling. I didn’t tell you about the text I got from Cam this morning. It was eating at me all day… I didn’t know whether to respond or let it go. And, I knew that if I didn’t say anything, he’d come regardless because you two are the fuckin’ same. So, when he called pretending to be you, I told him about the texts. He told me ‘I was fine,’ he told me to ‘stop worrying,’ and that he would talk to him… And then when he got here, he told me it’s okay and that you have me… You’re both fucking liars. The second I found out that he wasn’t telling the truth, I should have told you… I should have asked him to leave. But I didn’t want to.”

“Why?” he asks, his voice thick with frustration.

“I could ask you the same fuckin’ thing, Rafe. Why did we do this in the first place? Why are you jealous? Why are things different with me? I don’t know why I feel this way, just like you don’t know why all of a sudden this little thing the two of you do for fun all the sudden turned into the bad fuckin’ idea it was. I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving? Where are you goin’?” Rafe asks as you storm down the front porch, the two boys trailing close behind you.

You grab the car door, tugging it open, but Rafe grabs it, his piercing blue eyes burning into yours. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” you breathe.

“You said ‘you love me,’” he struggles to push the words through his tight lips. “You said ‘you loved me, and you’re fuckin’ leaving me.”

“Oh my god. I love you, Rafe. We were fuckin’ perfect… Excuse me for needing a moment to think about how that got taken away.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” he pleads, his knuckles turning white with his grip on the door. “I can’t lose you. Please.”

“Don’t leave,” Cam steps in. “Please. I’ve ruined enough, okay? I’ve fucked up so much shit for the two of you. I should have known this would eventually happen. I know how Rafe talks about you… He loves you so much. We weren’t thinking. I’ll go. Just–Just don’t leave him,” Cam begs, holding back his emotions too.

“I’m not choosing either of you… I just need some time to think.” You tug on the door; Rafe fights against you monetarily, “Give me some fucking time to think, Rafe.”

He submits as he sees the look in your eyes and the pain all this caused. “I’m sorry, princess.”

𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻, 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻…

iMessages

Rafe: I messed up baby

Rafe: I never should’ve put you in that position and I’m so sorry

Rafe: I love you more than anything

Cam: I’m sorry for everything that happened and for lying to you. I knew by the way Rafe talked about you that it was dumb in the first place, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know where this was headed even before we started.

Cam: I saw you before we met. I acted like I didn’t. But I saw the two of you on IG. I saw how fucking pretty you are. Got an idea of what he kinda girl you were… listened to his stories and shit i knew this was going to be trouble before it even started.

Rafe: I keep replaying everything over and over. Everything that you told me. You were so worried and I said I would take care of you. I’m supposed to take care of you.

Cam: I’m sorry for lying to you. I can’t believe I did that shit.

Rafe: Im begging you for anything. Please

Rafe: Saw you in the library. You look so pretty baby. I miss you so much

Cam: Merry Christmas

Cam: It hurts to hear Rafe talk about you. I’m sorry

Rafe: just want you to know that I’ll do anything to fix this

Rafe: Give me 5 minutes alright? Just 5 minutes I won’t take any more of your time.

Cam: If you’re ever willing to talk to me, just know I’m here. I can meet you anywhere. Anytime.

Rafe: When you’re ready I’ll be here. I hope you’re taking care of yourself

Rafe: You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me

Rafe: You’re always on my mind. I’m so fucked up about this.

Rafe: I love you

Rafe: im sorry

𝓓𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 31𝓼𝓽…

Rafe’s POV:

Apparently, there’s a party goin’ on here tonight… Smiling, laughter, and clinking glasses fill the air, but the only thing I can see is her, all the sounds around me fading into the back as my racing thoughts take the front seat.

She’s beautiful. Fuck, she always looks good. She smiles and laughs; if I didn’t know her well enough, I’d buy it… I can’t believe I lost her–fumbled the best thing I ever had. She was everything to me. Our relationship was so fucking good. Now, it’s gone.

Cam stands next to me, sipping his whiskey. He looks out at the crowd, his eyes following her, too. The tension between us is thick. He feels the same way I do. He misses her. We both fuckin’ do.

“Somethin’s off, huh?” Cam asks, his voice gentle as he picks up on the same thing I did.

I sigh deeply, running my fingers through my hair. “Yeah. That ain’t her,” I answer against the rim of my glass. ‘Not her…’ He knows what I mean: that little light that’s usually in her eyes has dimed, her forced smile not even reaching her eyes. “I fucked everything up.” I rasp, feeling the bite of the liquor burn down my throat, numbing my nerves slightly.

“We both did,” he mumbles, his voice tight as he rubs his hand over his buzzed head.

The night goes on, and I still can’t take my eyes off her. She hangs out with her friends, floating between conversations, and suddenly, my world turns upside down. A guy? Someone new? I recognized him from campus, a hockey player… Heyward? I don’t fuckin’ know. Regardless, my stomach twisted in knots seeing her with someone else because, for a split second, she looked happy, and that should have been enough, but it did nothing but make all those thoughts in my brain louder. It does nothin’ but break my heart even more.

She found someone else.

Cam and I exchange glances, quietly watching, living the same nightmare.

“I can’t stop thinking about her,” Cam said quietly, his voice full of longing.

I clench my jaw, fists tightening at my sides. “I feel the same way. But we can’t force her to choose. Looks like—” I clear my throat, battling back my tears. “Umm… It looks like she found someone else anyway.”

“No way, man.”

“Regardless, we need to give her space and let her figure it out. And if she comes back around, we just have to promise each other that whoever she chooses is just that. Alright? None of this sneakin’ around bullshit,” I whisper, trying not bring up the past, but for the first time, I get a taste of what it felt like to be him… I don’t even think I could follow my own orders if she chooses Cam. I don’t fuckin’ blame him, honestly.

“I think I love her, man,” Cam whispers.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew it was fuckin’ true– I knew after that first night they were together this shit wasn’t gonna end well for me. But hearing him say it out loud… That’s a hard pill to swallow. I shut my eyes, breathing deeply before letting out a deep sigh.

“‘Course you do…”

Got nothin’ to lose. The only thing that I had I threw away. Every day we’re not together feels like a wasted moment. Every night I spend time alone, hurts a little more than the last. I gotta make this right…

I walk up to her, my heart racing in my chest. She looks up at me, fluttering her lashes, surprised to see me here. And with my arrival little light flickering in her eyes dims entirely, and I know it’s my fault.

“Can we talk,” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.

She hesitates, then nods, giving me a gentle smile. “Okay,” the word passes her lips as I hear her voice for the first time in too long… I extend my hand, and she takes it, following me out of the thick crowd, out of the swanky hotel bar into the lobby of the Ritz.

Cam steps away from the reception desk, thanking the clerk before stuffing his wallet in his pocket. He turns toward us, eyes locked on her, that same look in his eyes as mine. We gotta fix this.

Reader's POV:

The three of you walk into a dark hotel room, the city lights glittering outside the windows as the New Year’s Eve fireworks pop and crack in the sky. Cam flicks on a light, and Rafe pops open a bottle of champagne, filling three flutes.

You take a breath, feeling your heart patter and your stomach flutter. The night took a turn; one moment, you were chatting and drinking with your friends, and the next, the boys whisked you away for a chat. You’d be lying if you didn’t expect to see them; after Rafe had liked a picture of you getting ready on Instagram, it was only a matter of time.

These men take what they want and don’t go down without a fight…

Rafe passes you a glass, looking down at you with a nervous smile. He hands one to Cam as well, who looks down at you with that same reflective face.

“Thanks for agreeing to come up here,” Rafe breathes, and you give him a nod before taking the champagne to your lips. “I know I keep sayin’ it, but. I’m sorry,” he says softly, his blue eyes meeting yours. “We shouldn’t have put you in that spot. You were right; all the girls were just hookups before… Nothing serious. Nothing like you,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, too,” Cam starts next, his eyes brimming with guilt. “I lied… to him, to you. I told him I understood where he was comin’ from. I told him he had nothin’ to worry about, and I knew I was lying. I manipulated you… I shouldn’t have done that. And, I’m sorry I let on that I didn’t know her…” Rafe doesn’t say anything at first, his face hardening as he realizes the last apology was for him, not you. He blinks a few times, repeating the words in his head.

“Cam-” Rafe starts.

“When I first met her, I acted like I didn’t know her. But that wasn’t true. After you started datin’, I followed her on social media and learned more about her. I knew somethin’ like this could happen…” Cam continues, his voice trailing away with remorse. “And, I’d be lying to you if I said ‘I wasn’t hopin’ for it to happen.’ I didn’t think about what would happen beyond that… This shit. I don’t know. I was hoping it would work out. I didn’t back off when you asked me to, Rafe. I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry.”

Rafe’s expression darkens for the moment. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly, choosing his battles, a mixture of sadness and betrayal in his eyes nonetheless. “So what? You thought you were just gonna come in here and break us up? What the fuck-”

“No… I don’t know what I was thinking,” Cam answers truthfully.

You sit there silent, stunned by their admittance, their utter vulnerability. They clearly had a while to cool down and think it through. But you knew you were blameless; the weight also hung heavy on your shoulders.

“I should’ve told you to leave, Cam,” you say softly. “I could have stopped it the second I knew the call earlier was you and not Rafe. You were walking out of the door, and I pulled you back in…”

“Holy shit,” Rafe mutters under his breath weakly before looking away, downing the rest of his champagne. “I was really confused. I was overwhelmed; the last thing I should have done was that. I’m so, so sorry, Rafe,” you whisper as a few tears spring from your eyes.

Rafe takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, rolling out the tension in his neck before turning around again. He walks toward you, cupping your cheeks in his big hands, lifting your gaze to his. “Don’t apologize to me,” he says, his voice almost a whisper. “You told me you were worried… You told me that you loved me… I said I’d take care of you, and look how it turned out. Nothing would have happened if I just listened like I should have.”

Rafe’s eyes lift from yours, looking over his shoulder at his brother. You turn around, watching Cam take a few paces, his big arms crossed over his chest for comfort, trying his best to keep his feelings at bay.

“I can’t stay here,” Cam says quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I should have told him ‘no’ ‘cause I was in too deep from the start. I should have backed off… If I had done that, the two of you would have been fine. You’re a good girl, and Rafe loves you. I should’ve respected that from the start.”

“Cam…” You breathe, your voice trembling, just knowing what’ll come next.

“I just want you both to be happy,” Cam continues, his gaze sincere but heavy as he blinks some tears away, running his eyes along the sleeve of his suit. “I know I made this harder. I’ll be fine. But I’ll always have love for you. I’ll control myself from now on. I promise you both. I swear.” Cam reaches out for you, pulling you into a tight hug, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Your eyes pinch shut, and you feel a sense of reserve wash over you despite the sadness. You missed what you had with Rafe but weren’t sure how to balance it all.

“Later, man,” Cam draws away before pulling Rafe into a hug. “Key card is on the nightstand, alright. I’ll see you at the house tomorrow. You two have a great night,” he smiles, speaking sweetly even though you can tell he’s just holding on by a thread.

𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚎…

𝜗𝜚 𝓒𝓪𝓶 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝜗𝜚 𝓒𝓪𝓶 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝔂𝓼

tags: @rafesthroatbaby @kisses4angels @littlelamy @watchmerora @buckybarnessweetheart @anamiad00msday @namelesslosers @cades-outsider @romaescapes @starkeysprincess @oxpogues4lifexo @unrealmirrorball @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @rafesgiirl @daryldixon83 @akobx @hyperfixationgirl @lhhlver @rrafeswhore @slut-4-gojo @blair-bears-blog @loveesiren @cameronwillow @rafegf-real @alphabetically-deranged @ariana2saucyy @rafestoothbrush @bloodibambiidoll @laniirackssss @jkrafe @wtfdudesblog @alejstarkey @rafe-cameronswife @rafe-cameronswife @rafedaddy01

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fairyhaos · 2 days ago

Text

❖ marshmallow smile // joshua hong

joshua x gn!reader, 1.8k+ words

tags: non-idol au, fluff, food mention, yn is a Mess, shua blushes very easily, absolutely cheesy romcom-style trope in this fic, basically shua pretends someone bought yn a drink but surprise!! it was him!!

warnings: 1 swear word

notes: silly soft flustered joshua who rarely consciously flirts but makes an exception for you :((( my beloved. happy shua day <3

“Here, this is a hot chocolate for you from the guy across the cafe.”

It's been a particularly horrible day, that day. Not because of anything specific, but just because sometimes days are like that. Days where the weather is terrible, your mood is terrible, work is terrible, and overall everything is just kind of… shit.

Seven o'clock in the evening finds you in a cafe: the same cafe you've been in for four hours, clocking in some unwanted overtime because some idiot on your team managed to permanently delete half the spreadsheet you've been updating for weeks and now you have to scramble to fix it in two days before the annual overview meeting is conducted to all of your bosses.

You’re exhausted, on the verge of a meltdown, and almost about to burst into tears when the gentle, male voice had spoken, and you look up just as a hand slides a steaming mug onto your table.

This man—he’s absolutely gorgeous, actually, but you don’t get to register it fully because the moment you look up, he suddenly dashes away to the other end of the cafe, bumping into empty tables before sitting down nonchalantly in one of the booths all the way on the other side, crossing his legs and waving, like nothing had happened.

“Hi,” he says, all cool and suave, even as he’s still waving. “I’m the guy from across the cafe.”

You blink, and then the pieces of his charade fall into place and you laugh, flattered.

“Well, thank you very much,” you say, and then close your laptop, looking down at the hot chocolate on your table. The whipped cream is piled high, and the mini marshmallows are the pink kind. It’s very cute. “That’s very kind of you.” You smile, taking a sip. “I’ll also be sure to thank the handsome server who brought me my drink.”

The man’s smile widens, pleased. “I hope you don’t think the server was more handsome than me, though.”

You hum, tilting your head. “I’m not sure. Maybe if you come over here, I’ll be able to see you properly and make a real judgement.”

The man’s eyes light up, and he makes his way over to you, and—it’s like the whole world stops spinning. You’d already known he was handsome, and he’s been sitting on the other side of the cafe while talking to you, but it’s a whole other thing to be seeing him up close.

You’re now face-to-face with the prettiest person you’ve ever seen, with pretty brown eyes and a pretty lips that are pulled into a devastatingly pretty smile, and you have to fight a blush as he claims the seat opposite you at the table.

“Hi,” he says again, and laughs softly when you can’t quite meet his gaze, shy.

“Hello,” you say, looking up briefly and feeling your face instantly heat up. What earlier confidence you’d had when calling him over has mysteriously disappeared, flustered in the face of this man’s handsomeness.

He laughs again, obviously finding you endearing as you look away, avoiding his gaze. And then he ducks his head down until he finds your eyes again before slowly straightening up, smiling when your gaze stays on him. “There we go,” he says softly. “Your eyes are so pretty. Please don’t look away.”

You blink rapidly, still very pink in the face. “Thank you.”

The man smiles. “My name’s Joshua,” he says, inclining his head in greeting. “May I have your name?”

Somehow, the oddly formal nature of Joshua’s question helps you shake some of your shyness, and you smile back at him, taking a sip from your hot chocolate. It’s sweet.

“I suppose you may,” you say, lightly teasing. “It’s Y/N.”

And then you hold out your hand for him to shake, playing up the formal greeting, and Joshua laughs, taking it in his own, his touch warm and grounding. You kind of want to hold his hand forever.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” Joshua says. Disappointingly, his fingers fall away from your own almost instantly, and he gestures to the mug in front of you. “I hope you like the hot chocolate. I was actually, um, watching you from across the cafe, and you looked quite stressed, and so I wanted to give you the drink.”

“Oh.” His words have you melting a little, and he looks so adorable with his shining eyes and that shy smile on his face, as if nervous about this whole exchange. “Thank you. I was having a bit of a bad day, so this really helps.” You look down at the hot chocolate in mild wonder. “I thought this kind of thing only happened to main characters in rom coms.”

Joshua rubs the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed even as he laughs slightly, eyes crinkling.

“I don’t really do things like this, normally,” he admits. “I’m kind of out of my depth here with this whole… flirting thing. But I thought you were cute, and you were working so hard, and I wanted to just give you something sweet to cheer you on.”

He thought you were cute. Despite his admission that he’s “out of his depth” here, you think he’s actually doing very well in this flirting. Devastatingly so.

Things like this just don’t happen to you. You’re not the type to have handsome men giving you hot chocolate at seven in the evening because they think you’re cute, but here you are, and Joshua’s smiling shyly even as his eyes glow, and he’s so pretty and this entire thing feels like something out of a dream.

“Your presence is sweeter than any drink could be,” you blurt out, and then promptly turn the shade of a beetroot, burying your face onto the top of your laptop lid.

You can practically hear Joshua’s stunned silence, and then he laughs.

“Oh, please look up,” he says, when you still keep your face firmly buried in the laptop. “That’s the most adorable compliment I’ve ever gotten, seriously. You’re really—you’re really lovely, Y/N.”

“I’m also really embarrassed,” you say, muffled. “That was—I’m so sorry. I’m really bad at flirting. That was so weird.”

Joshua laughs again, and then there’s a light tap on the top of your head, and you lift your head slightly. Joshua takes the opportunity to reach over and lift your chin up with the tips of his fingers, smiling when you finally make eye contact with him again.

He’s blushing, you realise faintly. His fingers are warm on your face, and his cheeks are dusted pink. You did that to him.

“It wasn’t weird,” he assures. “I told you, I’m really bad at this whole thing too. But I came over here because I liked you, so it would be strange for me to dislike the idea of you liking me too.”

Your eyes widen. “You like me?”

Joshua scrunches his nose slightly, looking embarrassed again. He retracts his hand, and again, you miss the warmth of his touch. “This isn’t my first time seeing you,” he confesses. “You come here every Wednesday after work, don’t you? I’m always here around that time as well, and you’re always so bright and bubbly with your friends, and I just—well, like I said, I found you really cute.”

“Oh.” Joshua really is so, so sweet. “I’m sorry I haven’t ever talked to you before, then. Wow.” And then you smile. “But if it’s any consolation, I really do think you’re cute, too.”

Joshua’s whole face seems to glow as his eyes crinkle into crescents and he smiles widely. He’s still blushing prettily, and that makes you smile too, mesmerised by how someone who looks like him actually exists.

“Okay, lovebirds, wrap it up,” a voice suddenly says, and you jump, tearing your gaze away from Joshua, flustered. At the front of the cafe, there’s a barista wiping down the coffee machines. He stops what he's doing, leaning against the counter, watching you both amusedly. His name tag, Yoon Jeonghan, glints in the lights. “We’re closing up soon. You guys have to go.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” you call back, and quickly drink the last of the hot chocolate that Joshua gave you, before beginning to put your things back in your back. The spreadsheet isn’t fully finished, but oh well. You can get someone else to do it.

“Sorry, I probably distracted you,” Joshua says apologetically, as you put on your coat and shoulder your bag. He picks up your empty mug for you, ready to walk to the counter and give it back to the barista. “Did you manage to finish your work?”

You shake your head, and the two of you make your way out of the cafe. “No, but it’s okay,” you assure him. “I’ve been working on it for hours. I’ll get someone else to finish it off.”

Joshua nods and hands the mug back to the barista, who accepts it with a mischievous grin.

“Have a nice night, lovebugs,” the barista, Jeonghan, says, eyes twinkling. It makes Joshua roll his eyes, exasperated and benevolent at the same time, like he was used to such teasing. He bids Jeonghan goodnight and then leads you out of the cafe, opening the door for you and then following you out afterwards, until you’re both standing out on the empty street.

“A friend of mine, unfortunately,” Joshua says, as a way of explaining Jeonghan’s familiarity. “I may have, um, mentioned you to him, before. Once or twice.”

He’s being bashful again, awkward and shy in revealing his liking for you, and goodness, you’re finding him more and more endearing with each passing second you spend in his presence.

“Cute,” you say, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Joshua’s eyes widen, surprised, but like hell are you taking it back, because it’s true. “You’re really cute,” you laugh. “I… wow. Yeah. I think you’re really cute and just. Thank you, for spending time with me. This was really nice.”

Joshua’s eyes are still wide, and he swallows.

“Okay,” he says, “I really, really don’t normally do this, but could I have your number? You’re just so nice and so pretty and I want to get to know you more, if that’s okay. You can say no, of course, and that’s totally fine, but if you’d like to, then—”

“Yes,” you cut off his rambling with a smile, and hold out a hand for his phone. “I’d like to. Of course I’ll give you my number.”

Your day did not start well at all. It’s been miserable, and exhausting, and frankly the worst day you’ve had in a while—but then a mug of hot chocolate had slid onto your table in a coffee shop, and you’d started to make conversation with the prettiest guy in the world, and now, now, now…

Now, Joshua beams at you, soft as marshmallow and sweet as chocolate, and well. You have to admit that your day has ended in the best possible way.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

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twee-lil-paws · 1 day ago

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I tried finding anyone in the comments who added any *actual* engagement suggestions to people who don't know how to do anything but say "hi", and could not, so here's to you my socially inexperienced comrades:

Find Common Ground.

the internet has made this incredibly easy, most people readily share information about the things they like, so Say Something about it or Ask them for their opinions. Ideally you want something you share an interest in, but something your curious about that they might be an expert on also does well in a pinch.

Share Something You Think They'd Enjoy

no, not porn. That comes much much later, if at all. This does require you to have some tangential knowledge of a genre of things that your desired conversation partner is interested in, but maybe hasn't shown awareness of yet. Sometimes they do already know about it and then you're just following the previous suggestion, yippee. This can always be done passively after getting to know people too. Everyone loves being reminded that they were being thought about. Be careful not to Info Dump when sharing these new things tho. No one wants to read paragraph after paragraph from a stranger. Which brings me to the next suggestion:

Engage Each Other Equally, and Be Patient

people have other things in their lives other than talking to you. Nothing is more annoying than someone who's impatient for a reply. "Are you still there?" and other similar innocuous quandaries can quick change your recipients perception of you into that of a chore. Sometimes this means what was spoken between you was forgotten, this is normal and ok. Don't let it eat you alive. Enjoy the time you have together when it happens, and find some other shit to do when it's not happening. Try not to over burden your conversation partner with extra dialogue during these bouts either. Many get overwhelmed by their notification numbers going up and up and up and can lead to your responses going unread for a lot longer.

Be Chill, Be Kind

most socially inexperienced people I've run into have this common problem where they get so excited about talking with someone that they start to over think their interactions after actually landing a good one. This is a special tip for you. Everything in the world can become something hopeful or terrifying depending on how you choose to consider them. You can find signs of any kind of potential disaster everywhere you look IF you go looking for them, so don't. You cannot prevent every terrible thing from happening, and hyper vigilance only makes things worse. Focus your effort on enjoying the good things, and mourn the bad when they happen. Listen to how other people say they feel instead of projecting your insecurities about what you worry they feel.

If It Ain't Working, Go Somewhere Else

there are no magic words you can string together to get the target of your affections to pay attention to you if they don't want to. Learn to cut your losses if things don't work out. It's nobody's fault when this happens. A failed conversation is a Neutral occurrence, happens all the time to everyone, so let go & move on elsewhere. There are a STAGGERING number of people in this world, you will most certainly run into others whereby you may try again.

online advice: simply saying ‘hi’ and nothing else isn’t the best opener for messaging a person you don’t know

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woozinhos · 3 days ago

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Thinking about mafia cheol 🤭

It's well past midnight when the door to your shared apartment finally opens, revealing a weary-looking Seungcheol. He steps inside, looking exhausted and on edge. You're still awake, waiting for him to come home. You stand up from the couch as he enters, your heart fluttering in your chest at the sight of him.

"You're late," you say, trying to keep the worry out of your voice.

Seungcheol runs a hand through his hair, his eyes flicking over you as he takes in your worried expression.

"I know," he replies gruffly, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket. "There was a meeting that ran late."

He strides across the room, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. There's a tension in his body, a pent-up energy that he's struggling to control. He stops in front of you, his hands reaching out to grip your hips and pull you close.

"I missed you," he growls, his voice low and rough.

"I was worried," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anger bubbling inside you. "You said you'd be home hours ago."

Seungcheol's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin.

"I know," he repeats, his jaw clenched. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be late."

"You always say that," you reply, frustration evident in your tone. "But it's the same thing every time. You come home late, looking like you've been through hell, and then act like everything is fine."

Seungcheol's eyes flash with irritation, his grip on your hips becoming almost painful.

"Don't start this," he warns, his voice low and dangerous.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," you argue, trying to keep your voice from rising. "I worry about you, Seungcheol. I worry about what you're getting yourself into."

Seungcheol scoffs, his expression hardening.

"I can take care of myself," he retorts. "I don't need you worrying about me all the time."

As you continue to speak, Seungcheol pulls a pipe out of his pocket and lights it, taking a long drag and exhaling a cloud of smoke. He looks relaxed as he does so, the tension in his body easing slightly as he leans back against the wall and watches you. You watch as he takes another hit from the pipe, your anger flaring up again at his nonchalant attitude.

"Is that all you have to say?" you ask, your voice laced with frustration. "You're just going to stand there and smoke?"

Seungcheol smirks at your question, exhaling another cloud of smoke before responding.

"What do you want me to say, baby?" he asks, his tone mocking. "You're right, I'm a piece of shit who comes home late and gets into trouble. But it's my life, and I don't need you nagging me about it."

You bristle at his words, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

"Nagging you?" you repeat incredulously. "I'm not nagging you, Seungcheol. I'm trying to keep you safe, to keep you from getting yourself killed!"

Seungcheol's smirk widens as he looks at you, his eyes darkening with desire.

"Maybe I'd rather be killed in between your thighs," he says, his voice low and seductive. "It'd be a much more enjoyable way to go."

"You're impossible," you mutter, rolling your eyes at his comment.

But despite your annoyance, you can feel a familiar heat building in your core at his words.

Seungcheol takes another hit from the pipe, his eyes never leaving yours. He can see the effect his words are having on you, the way your body is responding to his suggestive tone. He steps closer to you, his gaze roving over your body with an intense hunger.

"You can't hide it from me," he murmurs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "I know you want me just as badly as I want you."

Seungcheol sets the pipe down on the nearby table and reaches out, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against him. His body is hot and hard against yours, his muscles taut with pent-up desire. He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, "I can smell how wet you are for me."

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen #svt smut #smut seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #scoups smut #scoups #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fanfic #seventeen seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol scenarios #svt seungcheol

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lipsent · 1 day ago

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݁˖ COIN MACHINE ! ⨯ ── g.satoru x f.reader . . . ╲ the coin machine stops working at the arcade and you and your friend aren’t finished playing. luckily a tall stranger with a heaping basket of coins catches your eye, and you seem to catch his, too.

wc. 2k . . . tags. nsfw (18+), car sex, gojo being half a gentleman — so sorry it ends abruptly, this is my secret santa to @goxjo!!! I’ve held back your gift for far too long and I’m so sorry for that, I’m currently sick and in a foreign country so I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to post this if not now. If you’d like me to write more, I will gladly do so. I hope this suffices for now. Merry Christmas Aki!! I hope you enjoy <33 for the @pixelcafe-network secret santa event !

“Look’it you.”

His hands slid from your waist to the expanse of your ass. His gaze—much like his head—tilted up to meet your gaze as a pool of warmth began to rise from where you sat on his lap. The driver’s seat was certainly the place to be with one Gojo Satoru.

He rolled his lips to dampen it then turned to the side and looked out his car window.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you for even a second, however, eyeing you up and down again. “You sure you don’t wanna head back to your folks’?”

You kept your hands on his shoulders, even scrunching up the fabric on your palm when he couldn’t decide between your two eyes.

It almost seemed timed by the man before you, the way it had only begun to snow a few days ago and now you’ve met the cutest guy who seemed to have brought on the snow himself. When you brush your fingers on his jaw, the tips grazed what you were convinced were strands of snowflakes from his head.

His car had begun to match him with a white coat over it since he had been parked just outside your house for a few minutes now.

“I’m sure that’s not what you sent me here for,” you replied cheekily. Or at least you thought you were even with that grin pinning your cheeks.

“Oh, that’s just a bonus sweetheart,” he said in a lowered voice that drew out a little bit more of himself than before; a kind of slippery fervor that you had somehow coerced from his tongue.

Deciding he’d had enough of your prying eyes, he leaned into your ear and his breath swirled around the shell.

“But we both know you’d like that now, wouldn’t you?”

You leaned back as your brows furrowed. “You were the one making eyes at me at the arcade.”

A snicker left his relaxed grin. “If that’s the story you choose to tell yourself, I’m not going to stop you.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“I’m calling you a pot—the very same one calling the kettle black.”

He squeezed your ass and you nearly let out an audible reaction.

“Come now, don’t tell me you’re getting all coy on me after everything you pulled at the arcade.”

“And what exactly did I pull?”

His hands slid back up to your waist, as if withdrawing even just in the slightest degree.

“I don’t have to tell you what you did.” Your name slithered out from his lips and the very sound bled into your reaction.

“Shit!” She slammed her first onto the glass.

The sudden noise snapped you out of your trance, having you look away from the tower you had been eyeing since he’d sauntered in.

A very gorgeous tower indeed. One with white hair and crystal eyes.

You turned around to gaze back at the claw machine you had just been leaning on. “Give it up babe.”

Your half-mast eyes shot back to your friend whose eyes reflected the plush keychain they’d lost in the sea of its friends.

“That was my last coin!” Your friend whined as she grabbed the sides of the machine.

You shook your head but smiled as you pulled out your wallet from your back pocket and turned towards the direction of the coin machine.

“C’mon.”

Your friend followed behind you happily as colorful blinking lights painted spots on her skin.

“This arcade’s pretty weird, huh? Needing to put your money into a coin machine so you can play the games.”

“There’s a strategy to it. It’s more common than you’d think.”

“Right.” Your friend stared off into the distance absentmindedly, her eye catching on a pleasing sight. “Hey, babe?”

“Mm?”

“That guy’s totally checking you out.”

You looked over and sure enough, that gorgeous tower of a man stared right back at you.

His smile widened when he’d realized you looked his way.

You looked back at the coin machine and just before you could insert a bill into it, you saw an ‘out of order’ sign hanging above it.

the entire row of coin machines were out of order.

“Aw.” Your friend’s shoulders slumped. “Shall we go get a drink instead?”

But you had your eyes set on the man with snow for hair.

Specifically, on his basket.

He seemed to be sharing it with his friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t mind if you grabbed a few.

You made your way past the noisy arcade games, weaving through people and noises that jumped out at you before finally arriving at him.

He looked down at you and raised a brow. His brunette friend bent forward with his hands in his pockets to observe the hold up.

“The coin machine’s broken and my friend and I—we kinda wanna play more games. You guys have a basket full of coins, is there any way I could pay you for some?” You asked with a smile pinned to your blushed cheeks.

You made sure to look up at him with your eyes as much as possible; your eyes would naturally be made wider, and with eyes like that it might’ve sent the right message: this wasn’t just about the coins.

He gave you that same wide smile, all too gleeful and reassuring to be letting your guard down over.

“Sure. How about we follow you around and you and your friend can use as many coins as you want, hm?” He suggested, pushing up his circular shades.

“Cool! I’ll treat you to something after we’re done, thank you so much,” you beamed.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmured under his breath but with how handsome he was, it was impossible to miss a thing that left him.

Your friend finally came over and the four of you introduced yourselves. Having to yell over the banging noises of the whack-a-moles wasn’t the best circumstance to be introduced to your future husband, but your mind wandered far too long and far into said future that it grew softer than white noise.

So there the four of you were—exploring the arcade and wasting away at claw machines. Luckily, both Satoru and Suguru didn’t seem to have a problem with your friend’s obsession with claw machines, but they did give each other looks every now and then that you had pretended to miss. You were on a mission, and it was crucial to be innocent in an already dully innocent situation.

Time went by too quick, however, and you had missed its call completely.

“Shit.”

Your friend whipped around and blinked at you. “What?”

“That—that stupid christmas party at my place, I’m late,” you groaned, grabbing your bag from the shooting game you were about to step into.

You turned to Satoru and nearly winced. You bit your lip hadd as punishment to yourself.

“Fuck, sorry—I did really have the intention of making it up to you—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s my treat. You know what? When’s the party?”

“Three.”

It was 2:40pm.

So much for your mission.

“I’ll drive you. We’ll get there in no time.”

“I live outside the city.”

“Not a problem,” Satoru insisted again. “Really, I’ll drive you. Suguru had somewhere else to be anyway.”

He looked towards Suguru, who returned the look and nodded with a quick smile.

“Satoru’s making me do all the work in our school group project.”

Satoru punched Suguru in the shoulder and they both laughed.

“Asshole.” Satoru rolled his eyes but his smile could drown people in blizzards. “So?”

“My friend … also needs a ride …” you pointed towards her, and she stepped out of the shooting game and gave a meek smile that matched your own.

You knew you were pushing it. But before a gorgeous whore, you were first a good friend.

“Oh, sure,” Satoru nodded without hesitation. “We’ll drop your friend off first.”

And now you’re sitting in the driveway near your house and on top of Satoru’s lap.

“Fine. Would you prefer I make demands?”

“It would be easier for the both of us, yeah.” Satoru reached for a wallet in his pocket.

“I’m on birth control,” you blurted, eyes tracing his veiny hand and you watched as it slowly retracted into his pocket along with his wallet.

“Duly noted,” he chuckled, and his hands busied themselves on the zipper of his black pants instead.

It didn’t take long before his cock was revealed to you, and he was reclining his chair just less than an inch back for slightly more room.

When you sank down on him, his lips fell loose, thumbs digging into your flesh when he grabbed your waist like he was trying to bruise you from his grip alone.

You sat on him completely and small noises escaped as you tried to get used to the sudden stretch. Lava for blood ran from your wet lips down to your legs while your arms and hands remained iced to the tips.

“Oh, you’re just adorable like this,” he grunted, a low growl falling through the gaps as he gritted his teeth. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

A knuckle had already found its way to your lips, your teeth biting down like paper on pencil as you tried your best to be modest in a not-at-all modest situation.

“C’mon.” Satoru chuckled when he gently held your hand in his, peeling it away from your face as you whined.

“Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

“It’s … a little … t-tight …”

“I know, I know … does it hurt?” He kissed a trail from your jaw all the way to your shoulder then down your collarbone.

“No—ngh!”

Satoru rolled a bruising thrust into you, his tip rubbing up against your cervix as he squeezed your ass with both of his hands as if they were handles.

“Fuck,” he cursed crisply into your ear when he hunched over from the pleasure he’d inflicted. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

“You’re so—ah!”

He thrusted in again and then kept up the slow rhythm with a force opposite from its pace, each wet slap dragging your heart closer to your gut as your cheeks ran hot.

“Satoru—fuck—”

“Mm, you’re already shaking—” He was cut off by his own groan as he grabbed your thighs like a lifeline, fingertips digging into your supple flesh as you clenched around him.

He had only thrusted in again when suddenly someone appeared through your front door and Satoru had the instinct of dropping his backrest flat against his backseat to hide the both of you from direct sight.

You both stayed completely silent and noisy simultaneously with your pants and his heartbeat in your ear.

“You should have drove away!” You hissed in gritted teeth.

“Why, do you want to stop?”

You made an indistinguishable noise and he only tilted his head and raised a brow at you.

“That’s not an answer, sweetheart,” Satoru cooed, the saccharine from his tone so viscuous you nearly choked on it.

You slowly rose and peered out to see where the bottom of the window met the person’s head—maybe eyes—rising too much would mean having to pull out from Satoru and you had that very deeply in mind and in other places too.

“It’s my uncle.”

“The creepy one or the one you like?”

“The creepy—wait how do you know about my uncles?”

“Every family has ‘em,” he replied as you physical felt his chest inflate with pride. “Now then.”

Satoru had somehow managed to reach down and swipe a finger against your clit. You twitched, and he tried not to wince at the sudden movement.

“Satoru!” You hissed. “He’s right there!”

“And he can’t see us. Let me guess, he’s taking a smoke right now and can’t give a rat’s ass about the fact that there’s someone parked by your driveway,” Satoru practically barked.

You shushed him, but he only rolled his hips into you causing you to squeal. He rubbed your clit in circles and something about this entiee situation had painfully turned you on even more despite the attitude you were giving him.

“Satoru,” you moaned, leg twitching from the sudden flood of stimulation.

“Do you want me to drive away, princess?” He twirled the little petname around his tongue as he snickered.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #lipsent.dvds #lipsent . . . works

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lionwitch · 1 day ago

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It's not quite the fact that Tim is smart what makes him their favorite. I mean, Bruce loves them all the same, and while Janet will always love her little boy the most, it's not by much, she loves the others. But Ollie and Lex? It's one thing the kids that one of their best friends adopted, and sure, they're smart and charming and don't get me wrong, they adore them. But Tim is in a whole other level, not so much because of his own personality but because they've loved him since before he was born.

See, Janet in this AU had a difficult pregnancy, but she always wanted to be a mother, and Jack only married her because of the social ladder and agreed to a child because it's expected of them and because she insisted. But he doesn't love her. And he didn't stay by her side during the hard pregnancy— you know who did? Lex, Ollie and Bruce. They watched Tim grow inside Janet's belly, they were there for the ultrasounds, they helped her pick out a name, and they waited in the hospital for Tim to be born. They held him in their arms and they watched as he fought and clung to life. They visited him every day in the NICU and read/talked to him. They did everything in their power (read: threw money at the best doctors and build their own NICU and tech) for him to just make it to his first few months. His first birthday may as well have been the biggest achievement.

They changed his diapers and raised him from scratch, the four of them (plus the occasional involvement of Jack). They taught him how to Person. They were there for his first words, fists steps, first everything. For four whole years he was the center of their little universe. For four full years, it was just four best friends and the little guy.

And then Dick came along, more than twice Tim's age (tim's 4, Dick's 10 because I want him a little older) and raised by his own parents, with his own ideals and personality and temper. His own little person, impressionable as he may be.

Now, Dick is Bruce's everything, his son, his whole damn world. He adores Dick. Everyone does! Ollie and Lex love the little guy, too, that's their nephew. Janet adores him, she's so glad that Tim is not the only kid anymore and that he gets along with Dick. Dick is charming and brilliant, and so kind and yet so fiery and fierce and angry. They love the little shit.

But this is their nephew, as opposed to their pretty much co-parented by all of them child. The only Firsts they get from Dick are his first day of school and first gala. Bruce of course isn't included in this, he loved Dick just as much as Tim and Dick's his baby, and he got his first fight and first weapon and first night as Robin, but none of the others know this. Janet isn't included either because no matter how much she loves Bruce's kids, they don't compare to her own son (yet, at least)

Then Jason comes along. Snarky, skittish, sarcastic little fucker, they love him. He's the happy one of the brothers (Dick and Jason, Tim's not included yet). But again, he's not a baby they get to raise from scratch (tim's 6, Jason's 10, Dick's 12). This doesn't prevent them from loving the two little shits like family, they ARE family, but they're their nephew, Tim's their kid. I repeat, they took turns raising the gremlin, he's their collective co-parented son more than a nephew, while they don't get to raise Jason and Dick, partly because Bruce doesn't go away half as much as Janet does, and when he does they either come with or stay with Alfred.

Also, they know Oliver is Green Arrow but he doesn't know they know, and he doesn't know they're the Robins.

My point is, they don't go stay with Lex or Ollie almost at all, while Tim has a room in each of their homes.

Let me clarify that this is not a biological vs adopted thing.

When Damian comes along, he's raised by both Janet and Bruce (already together) but not by Lex or Ollie. Again, he's their nephew, but not on Tim's level despite being Bruce's bio son, because they didn't get to raise him either. He's on Dick and Jason's level, which is pretty high up. It's like the difference between your siblings and your best friend. You'd kill for either, but you probably love one of them just a little more fiercely.

Also, Tim literally changed the course of Lex's life by just existing. He's a lot less evil just so Janet won't take him away, and if you asked him who his favorite person in the whole universe is, he'd answer Tim without hesitation— not his family, not Bruce, Ollie or Janet, but Tim. He would burn down the world (literally) for him.

Ollie would answer Roy, but Tim is a close second, and the rest of his nephews, then his best friends (good dad Ollie here)

Think about it like Tim being Lex's almost-kid. The rest of the friend group each has at least one child, but he has enough with Tim, up until he makes Kon and learns to love him, but Kon wouldn't be his child if it weren't for Tim convincing him to raise him like a kid and not a weapon.

Ok, hear me out. An AU where Janet Drake is best friends with Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen.

They met in school, and she's a high society girl, not expected or allowed to be much more than a pretty face, but there's this trio of smart idiots (they did all sorts of stupid stuff at school, but they are overall very, very smart), and they're in all sorts of cool classes and extracurriculars, and she wants to learn

So, she snakes her way into the group with well-timed looks and blushes. They eventually include her in all their activities, and so she learns all sort of stuff that she usually wouldn't be allowed to learn, because they help her keep it in the down low. No, she's not taking classes with them, she's being a proper lady and cheering her smart friends on through the oh-so-hard classes.

At some point or another, they all develop a crush on her, fleeting as it may be (they're hormonal teens and they're required to flirt, it was bound to happen)

They flirt publicly, as it keeps the media from pressuring them into relationships— or so they thought. It backfires when they're adults, the media is demanding Janet settle down and stops leading all three of them on. But there would be a scandal if she picked any of them, so she picks Jack, someone who doesn't love her or she loves, but someone desperate enough to climb the social ladder to care if he loves his wife.

When he's not allowed to flirt anymore, that's where Bruce realizes that he actually liked her.

When Tim comes along, and Janet has to go on trips, she leaves him with her trusted friends. So, Tim learns a lot from his Uncle Lex, learns to shoot a bow from his Uncle Ollie, and loves staying with his Uncle Bruce and his children. He figures him out far too easily and does become Robin when Jason figures he's ready to pass on the mantle to his little brother (because they're brothers. Tim spends a lot of time in their house)

Bruce adores Tim, he really does. It just kinda hurts, that he's Janet's kid, but not his.

Eventually, Janet divorces Jack, and she gets to spend a lot more time in Gotham. But by now Tim is as much Bruce's as he is Janet's, so they co-parent the gremlin that is her son, which leads to a lot of time with Bruce.

Bruce treats her better than Jack ever did, and she trusts him far more. They have the memories of years together. Eventually, Bruce tells her the truth— that he never truly moved on from his best friend.

When they marry, sure it's a media circus, but also not a surprise.

She's also a good mom, to Tim as much as to Dick or Jason.

When Jason finds out Catherine is not his mom, sure he gets curious, but he has a mom already, he's happy. He does want to meet his bio mom, but he agrees to do so safely, not go alone. Fine, B, you can come with.

Joker never happens. Jason is disappointed when he finds his mom is not at all what he expected, and he has a much better one at home.

Eventually, when Damian comes into the picture, he's snappy with Janet. "you will never be my mother, you harlot!" but Janet simply puts a hand on his shoulder and speaks calmly, yet sharp as the blade he threatens her with

"You will not speak to me like that, boy. No, I am not your mother. But I am married to your father, and I hold the authority as such, so you will go up to your room, you will cool down, and you will never threaten or insult me again, or you will be grounded."

"You can't do that!"

"She can. She has my full permission to discipline my kids, Damian. In this house, she holds as much authority as I do." Bruce interjects

Damian, begrudgingly, learns to respect Janet, and eventually he does see her as a second mom

The amount of times Oliver or Lex visit the Wayne-Drake household is absurd, but sue them, they like their friends. This leads to a lot of chaos, because every time Oliver visits so does Roy, and Roy hangs out with Dick and Jason, while Damian sticks to glaring at everyone.

Meanwhile, they dote on Tim, because they sure as hell have a favourite nephew, and it's the one they watched grow inside the belly of one of their best friends, the one they all changed the diapers of, the one they've taught a lot of skills to, the one they helped raise in a way they never helped raise any of the other Wayne boys. They don't even try to hide their preference. Now, of course they like all their nephews, but it's always hilarious because when Tim is around his uncle Lex, he's ten times the evil mastermind he generally is, and Oliver encourages it, simply for the chaos, and so does Janet, while Bruce is downright terrified of the idea of Tim as a villain (everyone is)

#tim drake #lex luthor #janet drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #oliver queen

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msnmnt · 2 days ago

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The Very First Night

Notes: Happy New Year’s Eve Eve!

I think this is my longest fic yet so I really hope you enjoy. Feedback is very much welcomed as always 🥰

Summary: On New Year's Eve, Mason’s car breaks down, leaving you both stranded in the middle of nowhere. With no choice but to find shelter till you can be rescued in the morning, you stumble upon a little B&B where you end up sharing a bed for the night. Lots of fluff as you navigate the uncertainty and awkwardness of unexpectedly being so close early on in your relationship. 🩶

You tried your best to keep your smile at bay as you looked out of the passenger window of Mason’s car. The soft sound of the radio played in the background, enjoying an otherwise comfortable silence as Mason navigated the winding country roads that looped around the lakes, guiding the two of you home.

Your fingers absent mindingly traced at the edge of the map you’d been following throughout the day, spending hours in quaint cafes, visiting quirky shops as you enjoyed some time together away from the non stop festivities.

The day had been nothing short of perfect - just the two of you away from everything with no real direction as you let the day unfold as it pleased.

After meeting at a mutual friend’s Halloween party, Mason had taken you on a few dates with each one topping the last, but you knew this one would be even tougher to beat.

The sun had began to dip beneath the horizon when a jarring sound suddenly interrupted the quiet of the car. A loud thump was followed by a scraping noise and Mason’s eyes darted to the mirror as the car veered slightly to one side.

“Shit," he muttered, slowing the car as he led it to the side of the road. "I think we’ve got a flat tyre.”

Your heart skipped in your chest as you turned to him, your voice light with worry. “Seriously?”

Mason let out a soft laugh in disbelief this was actually happening, running a hand through his hair. “Unfortunately I think so, angel.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest once more, this time at the nickname Mason had recently given you.

Mason managed to get the car into a lay by, parking it up as close to the side as possible. The evening was growing darker by the minute and all that was on Mason’s mind was how he could keep you as safe as possible.

“Wait here, I’ll go check what the damage is.” You watched on from the comfort of your heated seat as he scrunched up his brows, his tongue darting out as he inspected the tyre. After a few more moments of him shining the torch light from his phone to inspect the damage, Mason signalled it wasn't good news as he shook his head, his disappointed eyes meeting yours.

You unbuckled your seatbelt before stepping out of the car and joining Mason, straight away noticing the sharp nail that had somehow ended up impaling your transportation home.

You glanced around, tugging your bottom lip between you teeth as you thought about what you were doing to do. It was New Year’s Eve, you were quite literally in the middle of nowhere and the nearest town, or even a shop, felt miles away.

“What do we do now?” you asked, uncertainty creeping into your voice.

Mason walked around the car, inspecting the flat tyre again, He shook his head, his expression half-amused and half-annoyed. “Well, it's New Year's Eve so everyone’s probably at least half cut by now.” He signed. “And the wait for recovery is bound to be hours.”

You swallowed, trying to push down the nervousness that bubbled in your chest. "So… what, we’re just stuck here?"

Mason looked back at you with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he tried to comfort you, sensing your apprehension at being stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Mason took your hand in his and suddenly everything felt like it would be okay.

The quiet of the countryside was broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees and the occasional car driving by in the distance, too far to flag down to ask for any kind of help.

“We passed a bed and breakfast not long ago, it’s just back up the road.”

You nodded, thankful to have somewhere where the two of you could feel safer than the roadside till someone was sober enough to come to your rescue in the morning.

Mason tightly gripped your hand as he spun you around so he was walking closest to the road offer he led you back in the direction you had came from. Luckily after around just 10 minutes later, you arrived at the cozy, ivy-covered inn that Mason had spotted earlier. The B&B had an old-world charm, bright lights from the windows gleaming in the early evening gloom.

You let your body embrace the warm as soon as you walked in, leaving Mason to do all the explaining to the old woman behind the desk. Luckily she was sweet and accommodating, gushing at how cold and worried you must've been.

“You're in luck, we have one room left,” she explained, her voice raspy but kind. “It’s got a large bed, so you two should be fine."

Mason glanced across to you, his heart suddenly thudding harder than it had all day. Your eyes flicked up to his, equally unsure of what to say. You'd been on a few dates, but the pair of you had agreed to take things slow.

And sharing a bed?

That was new ground entirely.

“Is that okay?” Mason asked, trying to sound casual but failing a little as he snapped you from your thoughts.

You hesitated at first but quickly nodded when you realised, offering the lady a thankful smile. “I think we’ll manage."

The room was small but charming, a warm looking quilt covering the bed and lace curtains blowing gently in the cool breeze that came from the window which was slightly ajar.

The light from a single lamp cast a soft glow over the room, and you felt your nerves spike, unsure of how you were going to handle this unexpected first night together.

A self proclaimed control freak, a B&B in the middle of nowhere was not how you had invisioned your first night with Mason.

He put the few belongings he did have down onto the small wooden desk, consisting of a phone charger and a small toiletries bag that he was grateful he always kept in the boot of his car.

“I hope she didn’t think this was a one night stand.” Mason spoke, the idea of the sweet old lady thinking he had bought a one night stand to her small and clearly family run B&B making him feel a little guilty.

You mockingly gasped, your jaw dropping open and eyes widening. “Excuse me, do I look like a one night stand kind of girl?” You thought your voice was clear with sarcasm, but Mason’s jaw tensed slightly as he became overcome with worry that he had offended you. Mason knew your relationship was still in its early days, and he daren't put even a foot wrong to mess up what he was sure was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Mason internally cursed himself for his comment, looking like a deer in the headlights as he tried to explain himself. “No! No, not at all, I just meant because we have literally like almost no belongings between us, I didn’t mean it like th-“

Your lips turned upwards as a giggle fell from your lips, a sound Mason was sure was one of the sweetest to have ever graced his ears. A wave of relief washed over Mason as he realised you were only playing around.

“Did you, um, would you want my shirt? To sleep in, I mean.” His eyes dropped down to take in your attire, a long sleeved knitted dress with a bulky cardigan over the top. “Dresses aren’t the most comfortable to sleep in.”

You raised your eyebrows. “And do you have much experience sleeping in dresses, Mr Mount?”

Mason’s cheeks reddened as he struggled to come up with a response, and you begun to feel a little bad at your relentless teasing. As much as you loved seeing him getting flustered, you felt a little guilty and didn’t want to end up accidentally pissing him off, especially when you were stranded in the middle of nowhere with no means of getting home.

You bowed your head slightly, unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, sarcasm is my defence mechanism when I’m nervous.” You mumbled out, offering a shy, apologetic smile.

“Why’re you nervous, angel?” He stepped forwards, reaching out a hand to cradle your face. It was your turn to blush this time, his long fingers cupped perfectly around your burning cheek, which did wonders to settle his own nerves. “There’s nothing to worry about, it’s just me.”

Your heart jumped in your chest as his dark orbs stared so intensely down at you. “Sharing a bed with a pretty boy is a little nerve wracking.” You admitted sheepishly.

A grin plastered across his face at your words. “Just imagine how nervous I feel with how gorgeous you are then.” He booped your nose with his thumb and you couldn't fight a big smile from forming on your face, perfectly matching his.

“I’d like it. Your shirt, if that’s still okay.”

Straight away Mason nodded. “Of course.” he took a step back and pulled at the collar of his white tee, stripping it off his body and over his head.

He muddled with the shirt, attempting to fold it up before walking over to the queen size bed and placing it on top of the duvet. Your eyes raked over his body, your heart booming as you stared at his perfectly defined back, blood rushing straight to your head as he turned to face you and you took in his bare chest for the first time.

His heart soared as your eyes became fixated on his abs, scanning over the ridges of his muscles, the light sprinkling of hair on his chest. You were completely and utterly enamoured with him.

You knew you had been caught by the smirk that was spread across Mason’s face, but he was more than happy to let you indulge in his body all you liked, deciding not to risk potentially embarrassing you by drawing attention to it.

“I’ll go to the bathroom, give you some time to get changed, okay?”

You just nodded, words escaping you as your gaze moved to his slight smile, being unable to look him in the eyes.

As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut, you let out the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding in.

You wandered over to the small mirror that was above an old fashioned wooden desk, tousling your hair between your fingers before rubbing at the smudged eyeliner under your eyes, trying your best to rub away the mess.

You removed your cardigan, carefully placing it over the chair underneath the desk. It looked equally as ancient as the rest of the furniture in the room, and you definitely didn’t want to break anything.

You slipped off your dress, cursing yourself for not wearing matching underwear. You frowned at your boring baby pink bralette and white knickers. You couldn’t never preempted that this was the way the day was going to end.

Walking over to the end of the bed, you picked up Mason’s top and pulled it over your head, the familiar smell of his aftershave enveloping you. The shirt just about covered your bum, hitting the top of your thighs.

“Am I okay to come out?

You jumped at the sound of Mason’s voice from behind the en-suite door, taking one last look in the mirror before quickly making your way over to the bed.

“Yeah.”

If he was at home, Mason would never go to bed in anything more than a pair of boxers. But he didn’t want to risk giving you the wrong idea or making you feel uncomfortable, and so he decided to keep his jogging bottoms from the day on.

Right on queue, Mason walked in to you flopping onto the bed, stifling a laugh when the bed made an almighty creak as you settled atop it. You frowned, sitting yourself up and cringing as the bed squeaked further at your every move.

“So minimal movements throughout the night, got it.” Mason laughed, climbing onto the bed himself.

He finally turned to you, a sickly sweet feeling swarming in his tummy as he took in the sight of you in his shirt. You begun to feel nervous as you felt his eyes taking in your body, feeling a little self conscious, repositioning to enable you to tug the duvet up and wrap it over your lower body.

Mason joined you under the duvet, quickly extending his arm and beckoning for you to come snuggle up to him. You gladly obliged, tucking your head under his arm and wrapping your arm around his bare chest. The warmth of his skin against the side of your face made your mind feel hazy, the new position adding an element of intimacy to your relationship which you hadn’t been expecting to come so soon, but now it was here, you were glad to welcome it.

The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder than it had before. The quiet, steady rhythm of its hands echoed in the stillness of the room as the pair of you laid intertwined, barely moving as you just enjoyed the intimacy of the situation you had ended up in, your legs tangling together as you listened to Mason’s steady heartbeat.

The warmth from the bed had settled between you, but it was the quiet energy in the air that made it feel like time itself had slowed. You were close - closer than you had ever been before, and despite the nerves you couldn't deny how right it felt to be held in Mason's arms.

Outside, the faint sound of fireworks popped in the distance, echoing through the dark and signaling the approach of the new year. You looked back over at the ticking clock on the wall before glancing at Mason, your breath catching when you realised how close to midnight it was.

"Ten minutes to go," you murmured, voice quiet, barely above a whisper.

Mason nodded, flicking between you and the clock, then back to your face. You lifted your head slightly, still comfortably in his arms, his eyes dark and warm in the low light. They quickly locked on your lips for a brief moment before he pulled his stare back to your eyes, but the look hadn't gone unnoticed.

There it was again - the pull, the undeniable magnetic force. You felt it more now than ever.

“So, you got any resolutions?” Mason asked, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to shake the nerves. He shifted a little, the arm you weren't laying on coming down to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing gentle strokes on your bare skin.

You felt shivers go up your spine, your cheeks warming as he held you so tightly to his chest. Your lips twitched into a smile. “Maybe… to stop feeling so nervous around you." You paused, then added with a teasing glint in your eyes, “And to learn how to stop blushing whenever you look at me.”

Mason laughed, low and soft, but his eyes softened when they met yours. “I don’t think you can stop blushing. I mean… it’s cute."

Your heart skipped again, and you couldn’t help the way your face warmed, despite your attempts to play it cool.

You gave in, hiding your face into his chest which vibrated as he chuckled at seeing you flustered.

You gathered the courage to raise your hand up to his bare chest, gently tracing little shapes with your finger tip. A low laugh hit your ears and you swallowed at the feel of being so close to Mason for the first time. You loved his warm skin on yours, his heart now thudding loudly away under your touch.

“Tickles, baby.” Mason mumbled and you smiled, secretly rather pleased with yourself, switching to use your nails to drag random patterns over his abs. The sensation made Mason tighten his grip on your waist making goosebumps form on your body.

You let out a satisfied hum, rather pleased with yourself before stopping and twitching slightly to nuzzle further into Mason’s grip.

You cuddled back into his chest and Mason was quick to wrap his arm tightly around you once more. You laid there in complete content, not being able to stop your eyes from fluttering closed.

Mason smiled to himself, happy you felt comfortable around him.

“You sleepy, angel?” He murmed, and you barely managing to mumble back a yes.

“I wasn’t but you’re warm and cosy.”

He chuckled at that, his heart warming.

Mason lent down and gently placed a tender kiss to your head, his lips barely brushing your forehead before caressing the bare skin of your arm with the pads of his fingers.

The sound of fireworks echoed through the room, the familiar tone of the new year ringing out across the quiet, making the moment feel all the more real. Your pulse quickened, and for a moment, the world outside - the fireworks, the noise, the time - it all faded.

The pair of you were only aware of each other.

You turned your head up to Mason just as the last chime rang out. He glanced at you lovingly, taking in the moment. You swallowed, your heart beating louder in your chest. His gentle movements, the way he held you as the clock struck midnight. You knew you were right where you needed to be.

"Happy New Year, y/n." He whispered.

Before you could respond, his hand gently cupped your cheek. He leaned in slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for something, permission, maybe, but you didn’t want to wait anymore. You tilted your head slightly, feeling your breath catch in your throat as you closed the distance.

The kiss was tentative at first, a soft meeting of your lips that lingered longer than either of you expected. A simple touch, almost shy, yet full of everything you were yet to say. Mason's lips were warm, his hand brushing a lock of hair behind your ear as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your hand found its way back to his chest, feeling the drum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. When he pulled back, just a fraction, your foreheads met, and for a long, lingering moment, neither of you moved.

“I didn’t think we'd end up here tonight.” Mason whispered, his voice rougher than before. “I mean, in bed with each other.”

You smiled, lips tingling from the softness of the kiss. “Me neither.” Your fingers gently traced the edge of his jaw, your gaze locked with his. “But I’m glad we did.”

“Me too,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He shifted closer, the warmth of his body against yours sending an electric thrill through your veins.

You both knew it was more than just a kiss. It wasn’t just about the timing or the situation shared between you. It was the feeling - the way everything about today now felt like it was leading to this exact moment. A kiss shared in the quiet of an unexpected new year, both of you uncertain and shy but so completely, undeniably there in the moment.

For a moment, you just stayed close, breathing each other in. The fireworks were lighter now and through the light curtains you could see bursts of bright colours against the dark sky. But inside the room, it was just the two of you. Silent, content, and intertwined in a way neither had imagined would happen yet.

Mason didn't want to push his luck, completely respectful of your boundaries and not wanting to risk making you feel uncomfortable. But when he saw your eyes fixated on his again, following them down as they flickered towards his lips, he gently brushed his lips against yours once again, this time allowing himself to deepen the kiss as he slipped his tongue past your slightly parted lips. The moment was still soft and tender, both of you basking in the intimacy.

When you finally pulled away, it was slowly, as if neither of you wanted to fully break the spell.

You looked at Mason, cheeks flushed, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Happy New Year, Mason."

He returned your smile, his eyes shining bright with excitement for what was to come in the year ahead for the pair of you. “Happy New Year, y/n.”

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount x you #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount blurb #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount smut

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hanbinics · 2 days ago

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'tis the damn season — m.s.

pairing ⟶ matthew sturniolo x !fem reader genre ⟶ angst, pining. word count ⟶ 4.3k

warnings ⟶ smut, unprotected sex, p in v.

snow blankets the small new england town, turning every road, roof, and branch into a picture-perfect image of the season. it’s the kind of stillness you can only find in winter—the muffled quiet that settles deep in your chest and makes you nostalgic for things you haven’t thought about in years.

you tighten your grip on the handle of your suitcase, gaze locked on the sturniolo household still standing tall before you. it looks the same as it always has with its weathered shutters and the christmas lights strung haphazardly along the gutters. the same inflatable santa bobs in the front yard, defying the frigid wind. it’s all so achingly familiar, and yet you know you’re only paying this much attention to avoid walking up those cement steps and facing the inevitable.

it's a strange feeling being here again, but you don’t have much of a choice. your parents had moved away after you left for college, uprooting the life they’d built here for a quieter one halfway across the country. visiting them for the holidays would have meant burning up the little vacation time you had left from school.

the sturniolos had offered without hesitation. they’d been like a second family to you growing up, and their door was always open. it was a comforting thought—or it would be if it didn’t mean facing the one thing you have to force yourself to stop thinking about.

before you can knock, the door swings open.

matt leans casually against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans. his hair is slightly mussed, like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he still looks good. he’d never really had a baby face in his teenage years, but somehow the cut of his jaw seems to get sharper every time you see him, the shadow of stubble decorating his pale skin in a way that nearly has you clenching your thighs. what remains almost always the same, however, are his eyes; bright and steady, holding an unreadable expression that flickers briefly only when landing on you.

“you’re early,” he says, voice low and even.

“you’re predictable,” you counter, lips twitching into a half-smile despite the way your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice.

he raises an eyebrow, but you don't miss the subtle twitch of his mouth, like he's trying not to smile back at you. when you think he's going to respond, a light and airy voice cuts in before he can.

“matt? who’s at the door?”

your stomach tightens. you don’t have to see her to know who it is. the cheerful lilt in her voice is unmistakable, and you’d be lying if you said you haven’t spent an embarrassing amount of time looking through photos of her and matt on his mother’s facebook page. try as you might, that whole “forcing yourself to stop thinking about him” thing doesn’t always work.

“i’ll get your bag,” matt says quickly, stepping aside and avoiding your eyes entirely as you step into the painful world of complete nostalgia.

matt’s fiancé, willow, is everything you aren’t. she’s the type of girl that’s effortlessly kind, her smile bright enough to light up a room—forget needing a christmas tree. she reminds you of the kind of girl your mother used to beg for you to be, but she could never quite smooth out your rough edges, much to her dismay. you can’t help but think about how much she would love matt’s soon-to-be-wife, the thought making your gut coil painfully.

willow doesn’t seem to notice. she’s all too warm in the way she greets you, pulling you into a hug like you’d known each other for years.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you!” she breathes into your ear, her enthusiasm genuine. “matt’s told me so much about you.”

“has he?” you question, forcing a smile. but your curiosity is genuine, and you find yourself turning to chris just in time to catch sight of his shit-eating grin.

“you serious? kid couldn’t stop asking about how long you’d be here, when you’d be here. ‘s like havin’ to calm down a kid waitin’ to see santa,” he teases. you know he’s probably exaggerating, especially when matt mutters an obscenity while punching his brother’s shoulder, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through your body anyway.

in all her perfectness, willow doesn’t seem to think twice about chris’s teasing. a laugh falls from her mouth instead, the pretty girl still beaming as she turns to you and nods.

“he really does talk about you all the time—about growing up here and all the memories you guys share. it’s sweet,” she admits, gaze full of nothing but adoration as her hand finds matt’s once he’s close enough to her, his usually pale cheeks harboring a bit of a pink flush to them now and his smile somewhat uncomfortable.

your heart twists painfully at her words, but your face remains neutral, only mustering up the smallest upturn to the corners of your mouth in response. you’re sure there’s truth to matt talking about you, but it mostly serves to remind you that he’s so curious because outside of these little trips home—which are few and far between—the two of you don’t talk.

you could say it’s because you’re both just so busy, that it’s hard to maintain a friendship with so much distance between the two of you, that your lives are just going in such different directions. but deep down, without a smoke screen and the fear of wearing your heart on your sleeve the way matt always has, you know unanswered texts and missed calls from the boy you’ve always considered to be home has truly driven a wedge—one you feel you can’t dig out anymore.

while matt says nothing about everyone basically speaking for him, you can tell he’s avoiding your gaze entirely, and guilt swirls in your chest even as mary lou and the rest of the sturniolos parade you around the house, showering you with the kind of attention you’ve never been fond of simply because it puts you in the spotlight.

but you let them because you return the love these people have always had for you, a genuine smile resting on your mouth when mary lou finally ushers you to the couch with a warm cup of hot chocolate tucked between your icy hands.

“sweetheart, it’s been too long!” she exclaims, shaking her head. “how’s life treating you? are you eating enough? you’re staying through new year’s, right?” she asks, kind eyes expectant. you can’t help but laugh softly at her string of questions.

“just through christmas,” you correct her, but the words feel hollow in your mouth and guilt comes with the delivery. it never fails to feel as though you’re running every time these trips come to an end.

“you should stay longer,” the older woman immediately responds, undeterred. “it’s not the holidays without you here.”

you breathe out an awkward laugh at that, the rest of the family beginning to chime in about the fact that you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you want, memories of past holidays soon being brought up. it’s all nice, and it makes you feel all the warm fuzzies that you don’t normally allow for yourself, but it doesn’t change your mind.

staying here any longer is dangerous, and you know it. for as long as you can remember, you’d ached to get out of here. growing up in a small town, surrounded by the same people and the same days, drove you absolutely crazy. you’d had big dreams from a young age, and you knew you’d do nothing about them if you stayed here.

as the family chatters around you, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. you don’t have to look at him to know it’s matt, but you do anyway. he’s leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with a quiet intensity. he hasn’t said much since you’d arrived, but then, he’s never been all that talkative. your mouth twitches at the corners, a soft, almost sad smile threatening your visage. you think he might return the sentiment, but you watch with disappointment as he pushes himself from the granite countertop supporting his rigid spine.

“you know where the guest room is,” he finally says, his voice cutting through the chatter.

all you can do is nod as you watch him disappear, your timid smile now disappearing all together, nothing but a quiet “thanks” falling from your lips that he doesn’t acknowledge.

the first night back was always the hardest. the familiarity of everything—the creak of the stairs, the hum of the heater kicking on—is both comforting and suffocating. it should be of no surprise to you when you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night in need of a distraction, but you quietly curse yourself anyway as you pad down the creaky stairs as carefully as you can.

when you turn the corner, you’re surprised to find matt already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as the soft refrigerator light pours over the otherwise dark room. you’re silent for a moment as you stand in the open frame, arms crossed over your chest while you just watch him, relishing in the fact that he’s not staring at you with those longing blue eyes—the ones that seem to be constantly trying to figure you out while simultaneously reading you like a book.

after another few seconds, you finally build enough courage to speak. “couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

when the brunette turns, he doesn’t seem all that surprised that it’s you standing there, but you suppose it isn’t odd. you’d know the sound of his voice anywhere, and apparently it’s the same for him. still, it doesn’t calm the rapid pace of your heart inside your chest when he looks at you.

“usually up around this time anyway,” he admits with a shake of his head. you watch as he reaches for another glass from the cupboard, and then sets it next to his before filling them with water. “willow isn’t great at sharing the bed.” a roll of his eyes accompanies the confession, but you don’t miss the fondness to his voice, and though you laugh quietly in response, it comes out painfully forced.

“you’re, um... you’re really happy, huh?” you find yourself asking, voice barely above a whisper.

a beat passes. matt’s gaze flickers from you to the glass of water his fingers occupy the rim of before finally answering, “yeah. willow’s... she’s great.”

the words hang in the air, their weight pressing down on both of you. you nod, forcing a smile. “she is.”

there’s another few seconds of awkward, tense silence, the only sound heard being the contact of glass against granite as matt slides one of the cups towards you carefully until you can reach it for yourself. you offer a polite smile as you step closer to him, fingers wrapping around the coolness of the glass. you want the uncomfortable weight settling around the two of you to go away, but you don’t know how.

finally, the brunette clears his throat. “you leaving after christmas?” he asks, his voice steady but quiet. you figure it’s just a way to change the subject, but your gaze narrows slightly with curiosity as you look at him, nodding your head once.

“that’s the plan,” you admit, though it feels sour on your tongue.

you watch as he nods, his jaw tightening. “figures.”

your fingers tighten around the glass, eyebrows furrowing. the only light coming through the kitchen window casts shadows across his face, making him look a bit older, more tired.

“matt...”

he shakes his head, cutting you off. “don’t. it’s fine.”

you want to tell him that it’s not, that you’re sorry, but you can’t get a word in when a humorless chuckle leaves his mouth, and he begins to shake his head slowly now.

“’m used to you runnin’. it’s been radio silence for years.”

this time it’s you who laughs, lacking the same humor he couldn’t muster seconds ago. “what am i supposed to say to you, matt? ‘congratulations on your engagement?’ ‘happy holidays?’ ‘thanks for letting me crash here while i pretend everything’s fine?’” you ask incredulously, watching as his own gaze hardens.

with his jaw tight, matt sets his glass down on the counter with a little too much force behind it. “you don’t have to pretend with me.”

“don’t i?” you shoot back, the words sharper than you intended.

the air is thick with tension between you, crackling with electricity. it’s almost suffocating as the brunette steps closer, his gaze locked on yours and his large hands anchoring themselves on the granite countertop on either side of you, caging you in. your breath hitches in your throat, and you can only hope that he can’t hear the ridiculous pounding of your heart inside your chest, your mouth pressed into a firm line as you look up at him with curious—yet knowing—eyes.

“this was a lot easier when you weren’t here,” he finally says, his voice low and strained as he studies you.

you swallow hard, knowing you shouldn’t answer him nor entertain this pull between the two of you, but you feel like you’re being tossed out at sea where it’s inevitable to crash into the ocean rocks.

“i know,” you finally answer quietly, but your voice betrays you, shaking ever so slightly, and you know it’s all he needs.

for a moment, neither of you move. then, like magnets, you find yourselves drawn together, his mouth inching closer to yours while you press up on the tips of your toes to meet him there, until finally, you’re kissing him.

it’s heated once the two of you actually connect, matt’s strong hands finding your waist immediately. he uses the grip to pull you against him as if he can keep you there, tethered to this moment despite the truth lying just beneath the surface. you tangle your fingers in his hair, tongue greedy and imploring as years of unspoken feelings spill out in every touch, every breath shared.

as the kiss grows hungrier, sloppier, both of you pouring everything into it—love, anger, regret—his hands roam your back before sliding under the hem of your sweatshirt, his touch searing against your skin.

“tell me to stop,” the brunette breathes into your mouth, his voice breaking. it sends a pang of guilt through your abdomen, but you don’t listen to him. instead, you pull him closer, your hands clutching at his hoodie as though letting go would shatter you completely.

as if frustrated by the fact that you’re letting this happen, matt presses your spine into the counter behind you, his hands sliding from beneath your sweatshirt down to the backs of your thighs where he digs his fingers into your skin for a better grip and lifts you onto the counter, his desperate mouth never leaving yours. the kitchen is freezing, but your body feels like it’s on fire, the heat and frustration between the two of you melting away every last thread of restraint.

clothes fall away in a blur, your breaths mingling in the cold air as his hands explore every inch of you, like he’s trying to memorize what he can never have again—what he knows will be gone soon. you’re still trying to adjust to every sense being so overwhelmed with matt’s presence that you hardly notice the fact that he’s already working on dragging your panties down your thighs, your hips and legs thrashing around on autopilot to help him out.

when his fingers make contact with your sopping pussy, your head almost immediately falls back, a breathy moan leaving your mouth. “fuck, matt. need you so bad,” you admit to him, the groan that leaves his throat causing your pussy to throb with desperation, walls fluttering when the rough pad of his thumb presses down on your clit.

he plays with you for a few seconds, giving into the way your hips buck forward in search of more friction, more attention, but eventually the brunette must decide enough is enough. you watch as he takes his hand from between your glistening inner thighs in favor of pushing his sweats down from their place on his hips, the fabric of his boxers following suit. you’re almost amazed at the sight of him already so hard for you, but you can’t say you’re surprised. being in matt’s vicinity is enough to fill you with the need to ease some of the tension between your legs, so you can understand how the dam of years’ worth of need for one another finally breaking could get him to this point so quickly.

after stroking himself a few times, you watch with hungry eyes as matt pulls you to the edge of the counter, a whine escaping your lips when the tip of his hard cock brushes against your clit. you can tell by the subtle smirk on his mouth that he knows how badly you want it, but you’re too eager to care that he can see right through you in the moment.

“matt,” you say again, his name falling from your mouth this time as a warning not to tease, but he cuts you off with a quick, hungry kiss to your mouth before parting once more.

“say it again.”

you blink at him, breathing heavily as your brow furrows in confusion. “what?” you breathe out.

“that you need me—say it again,” he elaborates, and while sirens immediately go off in your head, your heart aching at the desperate gleam in his pretty blue eyes, you find yourself swallowing thickly before nodding slightly.

“i...” you trail off, watching his eager expression carefully, knowing you shouldn’t.

but you’re selfish.

“i do. i need you, matt.”

you don’t have time to feel guilty. your mind goes completely blank when he finally pushes into you, it not being gentle, but not completely careless either. it’s everything—raw and frantic, but deeply, heartbreakingly intimate. you cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

it doesn’t feel like just sex, but a confession. a plea. a goodbye.

as if reading your mind, matt’s voice breaks through the haze of your chaotic mind. “why do you always leave?” he asks, his voice rough and barely audible as he moves inside of you.

tears sting your eyes, but you don’t answer. you can’t. instead, you pull his face from your neck and kiss him, swallowing the words you can’t bring yourself to say.

i have to.

if i stay, it’ll ruin you.

it’ll ruin me.

when he finally pulls away from your mouth, you bite down on your lower lip to stifle a cry as he fucks into you deeper, his movements desperate, like he’s trying to convince you to stay with his body since words are failing him at the moment. you can feel in his movements that he blames himself for this, and it breaks your heart. you don’t understand how he can believe this has to do with anything other than the fact that you’re entirely a coward. that allowing yourself to feel what you feel for him scares you. that it could make you stay.

“i hate this,” matt whispers to you, pressing his forehead against yours.

“i know,” you choke out, tears slipping down your cheeks. “i do too.”

his rhythm slows with the moment, his hands moving to cup your face as he kisses you softly now, the intensity giving way to something tender, almost reverent. it’s like he’s trying to say everything he never had the courage to despite knowing it’s too late—that nothing could have changed the outcome of this.

and then, with the realization, his hips are moving again, picking up in pace, and your head feels fuzzy. he’s fucking you like he hates you—like he loves you—and your heart clenches in your chest at the same time that the walls of your pussy begin to flutter around his relentless cock.

“matt, oh my god—i’m coming!” you cry out to him, one hand digging into the middle of his spine while the other cradles the back of his sweaty head, pressing his face further into the crook of your neck where his hot, labored breath hitches against your damp skin.

each slow, deliberate movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, but it's the intimacy of it—the way he holds you as though you might vanish—that makes it almost unbearable.

you come with a string of cries, some jumbled and indecipherable, and some of his name, your body jerking with the ripples of your orgasm that he works you through with his fingers against your puffy clit. your nails rake across his back as you listen to him murmur your name like it's the only word he knows, his breath hitching as he buries himself deeper inside of you. his previously perfect movements falter with his orgasm, fingers tightening on your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away as soon as the moment is gone.

he doesn’t move when it’s over, instead pressing his forehead into your shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut while soft shutters wrack his body. you can feel just how tense every muscle is, his hands clinging to you with a desperation that mirrors the one buried in the depths of your being. but it's still not enough. it still doesn't change anything.

“you’re still leaving,” he says after a long silence, his voice breaking. your lower lip trembles, and you’re glad he can’t see you just yet.

“i have to.” you nod, your fingers brushing through his short hair.

you watch as matt pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dull and glassy. “you’re gonna ruin me,” he breathes out, his voice cracking at the end. “y’know that, right?”

again, you nod, your chest tightening painfully.

you don't have the heart to tell him you already have.

morning light streams through the window, golden and soft, but it only makes the heaviness in your chest worse. your bag sits by the door, packed hastily in the early hours of dawn while the house was still quiet, the weight of everything practically crushing you.

matt hadn’t spoken to you after last night. you hadn’t expected him to. after sneaking back upstairs, the realization had hit you like a tidal wave: nothing had changed. what you and the brunette shared in the kitchen—desperate kisses, the raw and aching connection, the unspoken words in every touch—hadn’t erased the fact that he’s engaged, and you don’t belong here anymore.

when you finally build the courage to head downstairs, nobody is awake, and you’re grateful. and you’re painfully aware of how incredibly cowardly it is, but running without the offer of closure has always been the more appealing option for you. it leaves no room for confrontation and hurt, or at least none that you have to face until you’re all alone again with regret and hatred swirling deep within your aching core.

you’re already thinking of what you’re going to say later when you inevitably receive a few confused and probably hurt messages about the fact that you’re leaving unannounced when matt finds you by the front door. the same hoodie he wore last night hangs loose around him, his face unreadable, though his eyes carry the storm you’ve come to know too well.

“leaving already?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.

you inhale shakily, but nod, fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. “yeah. figured it was time.” figured it was easier like this, is what you don’t say, but you don’t have to. he knows. and you know he hates you for it.

you watch as he steps closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. there’s a pause, and then, “last night—”

“don’t,” you cut him off softly, shaking your head. “please, just... don’t make this harder than it already is.” your voice is quiet, and it breaks at the end, but otherwise your expression remains neutral.

the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything you refuse to say. the words press against the back of your throat, tears threatening the corners of your eyes, but you know better than to ever let any of it escape. words won’t fix this. they won’t undo the lines that have already been crossed or change the fact that you’re leaving. again.

“i mean it, you know,” matt says suddenly, his voice breaking, “that you’re taking a piece of me with you. that you’re ruining me.”

your eyes burn, but somehow you force a wavering smile. you want to tell him that you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind, but you don’t.

“isn’t that the way it’s always been?”

he doesn’t answer, but the look on his face says enough. his jaw is tight and his fingers twitch inside his pockets, flexing and unflexing. he hates you.

but his chest heaves, quickening with the beat of his aching heart, and his eyes are shiny with emotion you always seem to elicit. he loves you.

as you step outside, the cold air bites at your skin, but it feels like a relief compared to the suffocating weight of the house, of what waits inside for you. every day. every year. you don’t look back, but mostly because you can’t.

as you drive away, the road stretches out before you, empty and endless, but your heart stays behind—a piece of it, anyway. a piece you know you’ll never get back.

you’ll come back to this town some day—maybe next christmas or the one after that. but you know it won’t matter. the hurt will still be there, lingering like the ghost of what could have been.

matt, however, you know you’ve lost. and you can’t help the shaky smile on your lips as you leave yet again because you absolutely deserve it.

©hanbinics

divider credit; @issysh3ll.

#©hanbinics #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo one shot

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