#feat. separated version

[sweetlittlelyre]

who is alive?

[halcyoncyrus]

the autism won again today and I started making yet another playlist that no one asked for

[screampied]

Sukuna/toji suddenly having baby fever (and ofc there's a breeding kink as well) x wife reader. That's it 😔

BABYMAKIN' ★

છ feat. ઉ — s. ryōmen, t. fushiguro (separate)

cw. fem! reader, wife! reader, going in raw, heavy brēeding kink, pregnancy mentions, breath play, nipple play, degredation, edging, tummy bulge, mdni.

★ SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

with sukuna— it’s rare for him to experience something as such as baby fever. it’d come out of nowhere to him. he’s never once thought about it until he’s been with you. lewd thoughts starts to purge his mind at the mere image of your tummy being all plump and swollen by his doing. it starts off with real subtle things. it’d be a random evening where you’re doing something to occupy yourself until he approaches you. all bulky arms of his wrap around you and you let off a playful gasp.

“hi sukuna,” you hum, in the midst of turning to face him but he stops you. immediately, his head buries itself into the inner depths of his neck. sharp fangs delicately pierce into your skin before giving it a soft suck. glossy lips of yours smother together, questioning why he’s so clingy today all of a sudden— not that you necessarily minded. “mhm, you’re handsy today. did something happen? should i be scared?”

“fret not,” is all he says in a rough low voice, calloused fingertips continue to roam further down against your backside. slowly, he’s pulling off the pathetic fabric of your sundress, a tongue going over his lip like how an animal prepares to feast. “i’d like to give you something, princess.”

with a soft smile squeezing against your lips, you gasp once you feel a knee of his gently shove between your thighs. “oh,” you murmur, yet it’s in the very form of a piqued question. “what do you wanna give me, ‘kuna?”

“a child,” he purrs, no hesitation whatsoever with his direct answer. “i want to give my future queen a child.”

and he’s very intent on it,

sukuna with baby fever is an entire different version of himself. he hates it, he loathes how he feels so needy.

but he can’t help it,

the moment you comply, he’s dragging you into a hot, boiling kiss. warm heavy breaths fan against your own and his hands rummage all over your body.

two big hands of his is grabbing against your breasts, thumbs of his stroking against your sensitive perky nipples. a raw groan exits from his lips before he pulls away to avert his attention towards your soft mounds. “these’ll be swollen f’r me soon,” he utters, trailing his head down. he lies you flat down on your back, prettily sprawled all out for him. rich velvet hungry eyes stare into you before he then lolls his long demon tongue against your tits. you mewl out a soft gasp, the feeling alone immediately feels tender. “i need them to be swollen.”

there was an almost tremor in his voice as he spoke, you could tell how adamant he was on this entire stance. sukuna’s fangs grow a bit more playful, nipping near your dampened breasts, sucking deeply around the throbbing nubs. he does it in such a slow way too, purposely. he imagines he was drinking something from out of it. the tent in his pants only rises before he props himself up right between your legs. “ugh,” he growls, a long fingernail of his pricking against your panties. “why must you ever wear such useless things, they only get in the way.”

“just take them off, baby,” you tease at him, spreading your legs out a bit further and his shoulders lower.

with a menacing glower, he snarls. “nevermind, they can stay,” and you intently gaze—sukuna’s fingers lazily pries your panties toward the side before getting a closer look. he groans again, feeling the aching pang surround within his cock. “are you sure you’ll let me have my way with you, little one?” and his voice falters into a dangerous low, “my goal’s to give you at least three.”

“. . . just three?” and there’s a jeering tone running against your words. sukuna springs out his hard dick before fisting it a few solid pumps. he grunts, inching it towards your sopping cunt whilst he waits for you to continue speaking. “why not five, ‘kuna? the more the better.”

“woman,” he sucks his teeth, the urge to breed you growing ten times stronger.

hell, you were a force to be reckoned with. your constant teasing only has him more feral than he already was. the fat peeling tip of his shaft slides against your entrance and he’s grinning ardently at the squelches your pussy greets him with. “tch. don’t tempt me,” and as his words grow darker, you moan—feeling the plumpness of his dick rub between your slick. “let’s do seven.”

a taunting smile purses against your lips before you raise a brow, sliding your ankle down his shoulder. you then hum. “seven babies?”

he starts to lower himself inside. it’s a bit compacted at first, a concise tightness before the head of his dick cleaves through your entrance. you’re already soddening him up, feeling him just about to bottom out before he growls. “hah, maybe even nine. who knows, all i know—my love, is that i wanna give you a baby. you’d be such a good mother anyway, beautiful.”

you moan, feeling your cunt already start to constrict around his length. sukuna was so big, he knew it and you knew it too. huge breeder balls, his sack droops a bit as he starts up a pace, barely giving you any time to adjust. “s-sukuna,” you stutter, locking your legs around his waist. his thickness ruts all into you—mashing, churning up your insides like butter.

two hands of his go back towards your bouncing tits, a lengthy nail of his delicately tracing against the skin surrounding it. he just imagines your breasts to be all swollen, filled all up. oh, just the thought alone makes his mouth water. he shifts his weight further against you, directly on top of you now. beloved mating press—he grabs your chin, peeling your bottom lip down before groaning. “look at me, pretty,” and everything feels so raw. sukuna’s thrusts were forevermore immaculate. it’s with the way you’re hearing the sloppy sloshes squeal out of your pussy each millisecond. he’s so deep that you can feel the curve of his dick stretch all throughout you. sukuna leans in for a kiss, a hand trailing down your tummy. “you feel me?” he says between parching hot kisses. “mhm, ‘s where ‘m gonna plant it.”

he rubs a hand against your womb, a bit of pressure going down the more he presses against it and you gasp. the stretch, your stomach was in knots, his tip was so wide—using you as if your cunt was the epitome of the word elastic.

“kiss me more, ‘kuna,” you babble, trembly legs snaking around his slim waist. he was close, you knew the moment you started to hear his breathing pick up. it’s raspy, he darkly snickers. a hand of his cupping your chin, squeezing your spit-glossed lips together before vermillion red eyes takes in every sight of you. “want a kiss.”

“my wife’s greedy as always,” he purrs, warm breath brushing against your lips. his cock’s delving repeatedly against that spot, rummaging through every orifice before your thighs twitch against the curse’s skin. a thumb of his grazes near your lip before he snarls. “very well. stick out your tongue. roll it out just for me.”

without question, you loll out your pink tongue for him, tilting your head back before sukuna leans in to suck on it. whilst he’s still pounding you deep, striking sharp hips sending you to straight oblivion—he gifts you a sloppy kiss. you moan right into his mouth, slinging both arms around his spacious shoulders.

“hnnn,” he growls, occasionally having a hand wrap around your throat. sukuna nips at your tongue enthusiastically, feeling the strands of saliva tangle between each other. his pace starts to pick up and he groans. after what feels like forever though—he suddenly gets more jagged with his hits. after a long while though, sukuna speedily slows down. welts and welts of erotic pressure surfs through the undergoing of his thighs before a single final thrust introduces his nightly anticipated cum.

it comes out in slow listless spurts, sukuna’s eyes were half lidded and he groans. you could almost make out a whine from him as he seeps his fangs deep into your neck. a tongue of his traces against your skin as he’s cascading such thick amounts into your womb. “kunaaa,” you’d huff out, locking both limp legs around his torso. you were throbbing, everything just feels so warm inside. feverish breaths aerate near the outer lobe of your ear before he bites at it — doing anything to try and distract himself from the sensitive state he was in. “f-fuck, ‘s much.”

“keep it a-all in,” he groans, burying his face into the crook of your neck. it’s continuing to trickle into your gummy walls, you’re soaking in it all while your ankle runs down the red lines of his back. “ugh,” he growls, velvety gobbets of seed dripping into your clamped pussy. it’s so sticky, the material sticks against his thighs the moment he tries to pry himself out of you. sukuna looks down with a hungry gaze, a hand smearing against your now filthy cunt. leaning down to bring a kiss towards the hood of your clit, he licks against the new profound mess. “you took all of it like a good queen,” he whirrs in a drowsy tone, tongue lapping against his own mess. he doesn’t want it to go to waste—so he uses his tongue to poke some amounts of it back in. sukuna doesn’t even flinch at the thought of him tasting himself.

so lewd,

a gasp drags out of his lips and he grows quiet. with a scarred hand still pressing over your tummy, it steadily resumes to fill you up. you’re so stuffed that you almost drool. sukuna’s falling more in love each second he spends inside of you. “my my,” was the only words he could mutter out while smudging a clammy thumb against your swollen clit. he’s all up close—he can’t help but bring yet another soft kiss to it, watching your body twitch in lubricious harmony as a response. “she’s so pretty when she’s filled to the fuckin’ brim,” he whispers, his tone becoming a bit softer. claret-shot irises gaze into your cunt and the way it’s spitting out the remnants of his cum, he groans at how messy the entire scene was. “all mine,” and he presents your slit with a final kiss, a teasing mwah before his eyes dart back up at you. “not done with you yet though, princess. still got so much more cum—er, love to give. heh.”

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ get ya pregnant.”

six words,

six simple words and he was determined on carrying out work what he murmured to you.

with toji— he doesn’t necessarily care for the baby part, it’s more with the breeding aspect.

if it’s anything in the world that’s a favorite activity of toji’s, it’s to watch his own sloppy cum ooze out of your cunt.

he craves it, toji presses a wide palm over your mouth so he could listen to the mess—so you could listen to it with him. with baby fever, it’s usually an everyday thing for toji. to keep it short, he’s an ass guy. he can’t help but shift his eyes on your curves, your ass. the way it moves, all he can even think about is having you bent over with that pretty iconic arch of yours. he groans, feeling his boner only grow the more he pictures it.

spank after spank, kissing your ass with mean hits until it’s all sore. he always leaves you full with a whopping dump of his seed too— a cute pout tugs against his lips the minute he feels it pouring out of you. he wants you to savor it, savor every last drop.

“t- toji, hngh oh fuckk,” you whine out, trying to keep up with his merciless sawing strokes. he’s just drilling into you repeatedly. you’re on all fours, clinging onto the sheets with a sweet whine leaving your lips every few seconds. he’s so thick, your mouth breaks open each time you feel his cock jackhammer between your folds. you’re still fully clothed— he couldn’t wait as per usual. he had a long tiring day at work, far too long. toji came home annoyed, laying on your ass for comfort before he’d randomly start to ramble about how cute you’d look with a belly bump. of course—you tease him about it, and now you’re like this. “s’ full, ‘s gonna spill out, toji.”

a hand of his smacks against your ass again. “baby,” and you jolt forward, your head smushing against the fabric of the satiny covered pillow. “if it spills out, i’ll just lick it back in,” and a dark cackle shortly follows. you shouldn’t be surprised, it’s toji. he was an all around freak when it came to being underneath the crimson red sheets. the angle, it’s so filthy. your ass was pulled all the way up against him and you’re taking every inch, every single inch. you gasp, feeling his angry tip swipe against your g-spot and it snatches out a whine from you. “yeah? jus’ like that baby girl, fuck back against me. gimme that pretty ass.”

toji can’t help but be handsy. sharp swats of his hand goes against your skin— and in the process, you arch forward.

he’s buried deep, you feel the mouthwatering outline of his dick carve its way inside before you whine out. “ah- ah- ah, ‘m gonna cum again, toji,” and his hips were raunchily ruthless.

so fucking sharp—you gasp, feeling him drag a thumb down towards your untouched neglected hole to play with it just because. you bite your lip, feeling the center of his thumb nudge against it. you’re puckering in response and he snickers. “t- toji, tojiiii.”

“careful. keep moanin��� my name like that ‘n i’m gonna give you fuckin’ twins.” he grunts, swollen balls hitting back and forth against you. you’re so dizzy.

the room had a sweet mixture of sweat and pure intimacy. a rough hand of his trails down your spine, feeling towards your stomach. you’re facing the opposite direction. the serrated ricocheting bounces of your own ass against him rings throughout your ears uninterruptedly. through his darkened peripherals, he catches you trying to play with yourself, you could have sworn he wasn’t looking—but he was. “the fuck,” he grouses, staring at your jerking backside with leafy eyes. a mean swat makes your hand loosen and he grabs your wrist instead, pinning it against your back. “oh girl, we don’t do that. we don’t touch toji’s favorite pussy,” and he presses himself all the way in, a hand wrapping around your throat before licking the right side of your neck. “by we i mean you, got some nerve touchin’ what’s mine,” and he drowns out your repetitive moans with his loud raspy voice—pounding such delicious angles into you with his fat girth. “especially when she’s this fuckin’ wet f'r me, fuck.”

you have a bit of brat remaining in you, as you’re reaching your incoming high with toji shortly following—you stammer out a sweet, “but ‘s my pussy. i can touch it if i wanna.”

“oh yeah?” his voice boom a degrading low. he’s so stuffed inside that you were sure you were gonna break. the crownhead of his cock was so extensive and vast that you were sure your cunt was gonna split open. after how many times you took your husband, he still always felt so fucking big. toji suddenly stops drilling into your sopping cunt. immensely, a frown goes against your lips. a sly expression marinates against his features before he pulls all the way out. your body twitches, ass still up in the air before his fingers brush against your neck. “well excuse me then. you’re totally right,” and he’s just teasing you now. as he spoke to you, he’s almost dumbing you down with each syllable that spews out of his lips. condescending, a perfect way to describe his delivery. “silly me. had no idea, this pussy’s yours? touch it then, i dare ya. give it a good rub while y’er at it too, gimme a show. i’ll wait.”

your bottom lip quivers— fuck, you adored his dirty talk more than anything at times but you were so close. your orgasm was right there, you could taste it lingering on your tastebuds. sweetened with pure awaiting nirvana. toji hums, an eyebrow raising once you grow limp, not having that sudden energy anymore. you’re now embarrassingly awaiting for his next move.

“aww, no back talk now? what happened ‘ta wifey wantin’ to touch her pussy? she’s waitin’ for you babygirl, don’t be rude. have some class.”

you just knew he was smirking behind you,

with a cute attempt for him to finish, you give your ass a sweet wriggle, hoping he’d go back inside. with the feeling of now being clamped around nothing anymore—it only made your pout grow wider. “t- tojiii,” and you’re whining now, so desperate. being edged like this, you started to see all kinds of colorful splotches. a brief sting throbs within your cold needy cunt before you gasp, feeling him smear his leaky tip against your folds. “finish fucking me, ‘toji.”

“nah baby, finish fuckin’ yourself,” he coos, tracing the soft curvature outline of your thighs. he gives it a firm squeeze, groaning at how your body was just perfect. he then spreads two fingers to ghost against your wet folds. a whimper drags out your lips before he gives it a rude spank. “she’s fuckin�� drenched. ‘s a privilege to play with her though, you know that,” and he sneers, popping his now soaked fingers into his mouth to get a taste. lowering his tone in a more soft approach, he hums. “but, if ya really want me to finish, all ya gotta do is say please, baby girl.”

with drooling lips seeping into the material of the creamy bed sheets, you moan at the rubbing he’s making with his tip against your slit. oh, you were dripping with wetness. you’re trying to swallow him back in but he prevents it, briefly pulling in only to pull back out. the same dark snickers could be heard from behind you— toji’s infamous laugh, it sends anyone horrifying chills but with you it only makes you throb.

“p-please,” you spit out, each second you spent being edged, the more you were starting to lose it. you feel him lightly yoke your hair back before a hand trails down your back. “pretty please. finish fuckin’ me a-and give me a baby.”

“and?”

you pout, he was literally impossible,

with your bottom lip spasming underneath the top one, you’re still happily arched for him before speaking in a grumpy pouty tone. “i-i’m sorry for touching your pussy, toji.”

“mhm,” he swipes a tongue against his scar. doing so makes it twinge against his lips before his fat tip runs right between your slick entrance again. “atta fuckin’ girl. ‘s okay baby, glad we understand each other, heh,” and finally after what seemed like centuries— he’s making his way back in. you mewl out a shrilling moan, feeling the familiar barreling of his length before not even a few inches in and toji cums. “shitttt.” and it comes out in ivory clods.

your ass ruts against him, feeling the warmth pool into you before you finish not even seconds after. ecstasy runs through your veins and you’re shaking on him— relishing in the ropes of seed he’s presenting to your greedy pussy.

he hisses for a second, feeling your cunt’s grip tighten around him as he’s still pouring globs into you. it’s so thick too, when toji finishes . . it’s a lot,

he grows quiet, spreading your ass to get a good view of the mess he’s making. a cunning grin goes on his lips as he’s grabbing ahold of his length, smearing it all on your entrance before finally pulling out.

“goddamn baby,” he grunts, witnessing how it’s just emitting down your slit in masses. it feels gooey, you’re just laying there with your ass perked all up, head pressed against the furniture before he swipes a thumb against the wads of hot cum. “ooh, looks like your pussy’s sayin’ thank you. know that’s right,” and he turns you around, pulling you into a deep kiss. with a tongue licking against his scar, you’re on the verge of catching your own slow languid breaths. whilst tongues tangle amongst each other in harmony and sync, toji runs a hand down your body. he feels you shudder from his touch before a hand sneakily slithers its way between your thighs. you moan in your husband’s mouth, feeling him shove two fingers inside to stop it from spilling. after a few long seconds, he pulls away—tangles of spit departing before he hums at you cockily. “good girl, now we wait for that cute bump.”

[sunderwight]

Been thinking about the potential of a Luo Binghe transmigration fic where he has a similar experience to Shen Yuan's -- meaning, he transmigrates into a story that didn't originally have a "Luo Binghe", but rather a different character with a similar name, and Bingmei himself still has his canonical personality and broad strokes modern version of his backstory (i.e. abandoned, adopted, orphaned, struggling with the foster system, etc), whereas the character he transmigrates into has a different background and personality.

So, concept: Luo Binghe transmigrates into Su Binghe, the spoiled prince of the demon realms, son of Tianlang Jun and Su Xiyan and scum villain of the novel he read.

In said novel, Su Binghe was driven by a perpetual lack of satisfaction with things. He had almost everything handed to him on a silver platter, but none of it seemed to actually matter to him. His parents were powerful and loving, but also extremely busy and somewhat distant. His sibling relationships were soured by the fact that they were all basically raised separately by different groups of servants and expected to compete with one another for the supreme throne of the demon realms one day. The servants who raised him also had only limited authority over him, thanks to his rank, so he was encouraged to be self-centered and tyrannical from an early age because behaving that way helped him get whatever he wanted. Yet he felt ultimately purposeless and lonely, lacking any actual friends or companions.

Shen Yuan, the main character, was the third son of a wealthy noble house and was stolen by demons during a raid on his family's properties. He was rescued by Tianlang Jun's people, who officially disapprove of attacks on humans (special cases like Huan Hua Palace being an exception), but not before the rest of his family was killed or else sold off into less friendly territories. Shen Yuan himself was subsequently taken on as a ward of the emperor, as a sort of apology for the whole deal, and inserted into the somewhat younger Su Binghe's household as a companion and tutor to try and curb the prince's loneliness. The empress also took Shen Yuan on as a personal disciple, as the only person able to teach him human-style cultivation.

This worked about as well as anyone expected, which was to say that the spoiled prince treated his weakling human tutor like his own personal chew toy, blowing hot and cold, manipulating and mistreating, jealously resenting Shen Yuan's attention from his mother while also taking every opportunity to insert himself into the additional lessons as well.

Eventually the situation came to a head, with Shen Yuan lashing back after being pushed to the limits, and Su Binghe using the "attack" as an excuse to exile him in the midst of hostile demon territory. Thus began the protagonist's power-up montage segment, where he was forced to fight and survive, leveling up his skills until he came across Xiu Ya.

Xiu Ya was a legendary sword that had been wielded by an equally legendary human cultivator, an actual secret ancestor of Shen Yuan's, long ago. It was sealed away by a past Heavenly Demon emperor, after its wielder managed to use it to successfully kill one of their kind (a difficult feat). By sealing the blade deep within the demonic realms, the past emperors had assured themselves that no human cultivator would successfully venture so deep into their territories nor uncover its hiding place, and so they mostly warded it against other demons (who might want to return it to the humans in order to sabotage the Heavenly Demons). Thus, Shen Yuan successfully liberated the blade, and after winning a harrowing battle against an ancient evil (boss fight!) with it, he ascended to godhood.

But, even the heavens weren't merciful in this story, and Shen Yuan was tasked with using Xiu Ya to end the threat of the Heavenly Demon race once and for all before he could claim his rightful place among them. If he failed, his soul would be forfeit and Xiu Ya would shatter, eternally condemning the mortal plane to the tyranny of demonic rule.

Luo Binghe absolutely loved the character of Shen Yuan, even though his story was kind of trash, and he did not want to transmigrate into Su Binghe, especially not with a mandate hanging over his head that he had to one day cast his favorite protagonist out into the wilds, and then let him kill Binghe in order to fulfill a mandate from the heavens!

Featuring:

-Modern day culinary student Bingmei, absolutely revolutionizing food prep in the demon realms and desperately wishing he could change the genre to one of those slice-of-life cozy escapist novels instead.

-Bingmei being actually a thousand times sneakier and more self-aware than his predecessor, taking Su Binghe's absolutely pathetic attempts at politics and making it work for him instead (between the foster care system and the food service industry, Bingmei takes no prisoners).

-Su Binghe originally had a sprawling harem by the time Shen Yuan reunited with him. Luo Binghe wants nothing to do with it, so he has to just keep on dodging his parents attempts to set him up in political matches.

-Some of Shen Yuan's original household and family actually did survive, so Luo Binghe dedicates himself to rescuing the rest of them to try and farm points with the protagonist. This results in him retrieving Shen Yuan's brother, Shen Jiu (asshole rat bastard feral cat of a guy, Luo Binghe almost wishes he'd failed), Shen Yuan's personal companions the Liu siblings (terrible decision, Shen Yuan's always waxing poetically about how beautiful they are), Shen Yuan's younger sister Yingying (annoying but nice), Shen Jiu's situationship Yue Qi (there is something deeply wrong with that guy), and the son of the family's head servant, Shang Qinghua (weird rodent man, somehow has evil advisor vibes despite also looking sort of like the designated non-threatening one in an idol group).

-Bingmei identifies Mobei Jun as a fellow transmigrator pretty early on, when he absently whistles the notification sound for a smart phone and Mobei reaches for his pocket. Mobei Jun's approach to transmigrating is basically to say and do as little as possible. Bingmei subsequently doesn't find out that he is in fact the author of the original book until some time after the main plot has passed.

-Despite not wanting to, Bingmei is fully prepared to die in order to secure Shen Yuan's eventual destiny as a god. He only hopes he might go out cleanly and with more sympathy than the original goods got. Imagine his horror when Shen Yuan decides he's going to fight the gods instead of wiping out the Heavenly Demons.

[thelovehypothesis]

Between the Pit Walls and the Heartbreak

(part 2.1) (part 2.2)

Franco Colapinto x fem-engineer!reader

+3k words

a/n’s: full credit to @afterglowsainz go read their fic “don't smile” its amazingggg and so this is my take on the fic because I loved the concept and have two versions of part 2 for this! hope you like it.

warnings: angst!

Summary: Two hearts, one racetrack, and a love that no team principal can control. When love collides with ambition, can they find a way back to each other?

You stood at the other edge of the Williams garage, watching as Franco climbed out of his FW46 for what felt like the hundredth time that week. Every step he took felt heavier than the last, every glance between the two of you loaded with words left unsaid. It was different now, and both of you knew it. 

When Franco signed with Williams to finish the 2024 season, your heart became a battlefield of excitement and dread. You were his race engineer, the one who knew him better than anyone else on the grid, the one who stayed up late going over data with him, strategizing, and pushing him to be the best. You had been with him since F3, a time when your paths crossed because of your families. They had been friends for years, and your parents had pulled some strings to give you a chance to prove yourself as a young race engineer, even funding the early stages of your career.

At first, people doubted you. They thought you were only there because of your family’s connections, but you quickly silenced those voices. You stayed up late, crunching data, analysing telemetry, and refining strategies for Franco’s races. You weren’t just there by luck; you were good—really good. Your talent quickly shone through, and soon enough, bigger teams were offering you positions. You could have taken those offers, stepped into a more high-profile role, but you never did. You stayed with Franco.

Because you loved him. You had fallen in love with him.

It had started subtly—a glance here, a shared laugh there. You weren’t just his engineer; you became his confidante, his friend, and eventually, you found yourself falling for him. He looked at you after each race win like you were part of his victory, not just a cog in the machine. Your bond deepened as you moved with him from F3 to F2, and every time a team came knocking with an offer, you turned them down. They could offer you prestige, money, and opportunities, but they couldn’t offer you Franco.

He was the reason you stayed. Every lap he completed felt like your own heartbeat; every podium, every victory was something you shared with him. It was more than just work—it was love. 

But everything changed when he signed with Williams.

-The Call 

The moment Williams confirmed Franco as their new driver for the remainder of the 2024 season, everything changed. You had been publicly by his side for over two years, a relationship that everyone in the paddock knew about. Your love story wasn’t a secret—far from it. Fans followed your every move, your Instagram was full of pictures of you two at races, on vacations, and even behind the scenes in the paddock. You had been his race engineer since F3, and people saw your partnership as an unbreakable duo both on and off the track.

When you were reassigned to Alex Albon’s car, it wasn’t just a professional shift; it felt personal. The move should have been a tremendous opportunity in its own right—working with a driver as talented and respected as Alex was no small feat—but it was hard to see it as a win when it meant being separated from Franco. The paddock was buzzing with speculation about how the change would affect your relationship.

But the hardest blow came in a private meeting with James Vowles, the team principal. He sat the two of you down, his tone serious, and made it clear in no uncertain terms: there could be no personal distractions. He acknowledged the public nature of your relationship, but made it clear that professionalism first, always. There was no room for messy relationships that could compromise team integrity, that moving forward, there needed to be boundaries. Williams was entering a critical phase, and the last thing they wanted was for emotions to compromise performance.

James’s words echoed in your mind long after the meeting ended. “It’s nothing personal, it’s about keeping the team focused. We’ve all seen how relationships can become distractions in this sport. We need to keep things professional, especially now that Franco is in F1.”

You had expected some tension when the move was announced, but not like this. You weren’t just any race engineer—you had stood beside Franco for years, helped him rise through the ranks. Your love had grown through the late-night data reviews, the shared victories, the quiet moments after race weekends when it was just the two of you. To be told that this love, something that had been a part of your lives for over two years, was now considered a “distraction” was gut-wrenching.

Franco was the one who made the call, though. “It’s for the best,” he’d said, voice breaking just a little. You could see how much it hurt him to say it, how his voice faltered for just a second, but you also knew he was trying to protect both of your careers. He couldn’t afford to let emotions get in the way now, not when he was on the brink of making a name for himself in Formula 1. And you didn’t want to be the one to hold him back, either. So you agreed, even though it felt like your heart was being torn in two. You could see the conflict in his eyes, but the weight of the moment crushed any objections you might’ve had. You didn’t want to be the reason he failed to thrive in F1. And so, with a single nod, you agreed to end it.

It was a quiet breakup—no big fights, no yelling, just an excruciating silence that followed you like a cloud for weeks. You’d kept things under wraps so well that even the fans didn’t catch on immediately. But they were observant; they always were. It wasn’t long before they noticed the subtle changes. Your Instagram went private, the photos of you two celebrating F2 podiums together disappeared, and though you still posted about the races, the personal connection that had once been there was gone.

Speculation began to swirl in the background, but you never confirmed or denied anything. You let the fans talk, let the rumours grow, because addressing them would only bring more pain. And in the paddock, Franco became just another driver. Professional, distant, and cold in a way you hadn’t expected. You couldn’t stand it.

You threw yourself into your work with Alex, who was a consummate professional, always supportive, but even he noticed the toll it was taking on you. “You don’t have to pretend, you know,” Alex had said one evening after a particularly long debrief session. “It’s okay to feel hurt.”

But admitting that hurt felt like a betrayal of everything you’d tried to hold together. So you buried it deeper.

As the season progressed, the distance between you and Franco only grew. He was focused on his races, and you were determined to be the best engineer you could be for Alex. But no matter how hard you tried to push Franco out of your mind, he was always there. You saw him every day, heard his voice over the radio, watched him in the garage. It was torture, and you couldn’t escape it.

There were moments when he would catch your eye from across the paddock, and for a split second, it felt like old times. But then reality would crash down, and you would remind yourself that things were different now. You weren’t his engineer anymore. You weren’t his anymore.

And yet, despite everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to move on. You still loved him. The offers from other teams continued to pour in—teams that saw your potential, that recognized your talent. Mclaren, Aston Martin, even Mercedes reached out, but you turned them all down. How could you leave when Franco was still here? You had built your career with him by your side, and even though your relationship was over, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

But you knew it couldn’t last. Eventually, you would have to make a choice.

—The Wall Comes Down

It wasn’t until Suzuka, late in the season, that Franco finally broke the silence between you two. The garage was quiet, most of the crew gone, but Franco lingered by his car, his eyes darting toward you as if summoning the courage to speak.

“Can we talk?” His voice was low, tentative, and you wanted to say no, you didn’t want to have this conversation. You had spent the last few months trying to bury your feelings, to focus on your work and pretend that everything was fine. But the look in Franco’s eyes told you that he wasn’t going to let you walk away this time.

“We shouldn’t,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please” he pleaded and you found yourself nodding while he guided you to his driver's room.

He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I hate this. I hate that we don’t talk anymore.”

You crossed your arms, trying to guard yourself against the emotions surging within. “We don’t talk because you made that choice, Franco.”

His jaw clenched, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “It wasn’t my choice—it was the team’s.”

You shook your head, feeling the sting of unshed tears. “But you agreed to it. You agreed to break up with me like it was just another strategy call. Like we were something you could let go of as easily as a bad qualifying lap.”

“I did it for us,” he said, voice rising. “For our future. You know how cutthroat this world is—how many careers get destroyed because of personal issues. I didn’t want that for you, or for me.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “Don’t lie to yourself. You did it for you. You were scared, Franco. Scared that if things went wrong between us, it would ruin your big shot in F1.”

He looked away, the weight of your words hanging between you like a wall neither of you could cross. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice softer now, broken. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I was scared. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”

“And how’s that, exactly?” you asked, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping into your tone.

“Look I know I messed up,” Franco said, his hands shaking as he spoke. “I thought breaking up was the right thing to do. I thought it would keep us both focused, but… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend anymore.” He paused for a moment. “I still love you,” he said, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had been waiting for them, hoping to hear them for months, but now they only made you angry.

“You can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal,” you said, shaking your head. “It doesn’t work that way.” You looked away, the pain of his words hitting you harder than you expected. “You made your choice, Franco. You chose your career over me. You can’t just come back now and expect everything to go back to the way it was.”

“I didn’t choose my career over you,” he said, stepping closer. “I thought I was protecting us both. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I know I hurt you. I know I made the wrong call, but I’m trying to fix it now. We can still be friends.”

“No,” you said firmly, taking a step back. “I didn’t need protecting,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “I needed you to trust me. To trust us. But you didn’t. And I..I…I can’t just be your friend, Franco. Not when I’m still in love with you.”

The silence between you stretched out, the weight of your confession settling in. Franco’s face fell, and for the first time, you saw genuine regret in his eyes.

“I didn’t realise…”

“You didn’t want to realise,” you corrected. “You thought it would be easier to just put distance between us, to make things ‘professional,’ but that’s not how feelings work. You can’t compartmentalise everything.”

He reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “I need space, Franco. I can’t do this anymore.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Franco nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He looked at you, his eyes full of regret, and for the first time, you saw how much this had been hurting him too. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He turned around and you watched as he walked away, your heart breaking all over again, but you knew it was for the best. Some things just couldn’t be fixed with a pit stop.

-The Offer By the time the season neared its end, you received the call you’d been avoiding for months. Red bull was offering you a position. They wanted you to join their engineering team, and the offer was too good to ignore. Prestige, a hefty pay raise, and the chance to work with another driver—a new start.

You took the job. You had to. Staying with Williams, staying near Franco, was suffocating you. And the moment Franco found out you were leaving for Red Bull? It broke him in a way you hadn’t expected.

-The End of the Season

The season wrapped up in Abu Dhabi, and the celebration felt hollow without Franco by your side. You watched from a distance as he soaked in the cheers from the crowd, the flashes of cameras capturing the culmination of a year of hard work. He had grown into a formidable driver in F1, and you couldn’t help but feel pride for him, even if you had been reduced to just another observer.

You had kept your distance for months, determined to stay professional despite how much it hurt. But as the night went on and the paddock grew quiet, you found yourself lingering. The afterparty was in full swing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to join in. Instead, you found a secluded spot near the pit garages, letting the sound of the distant laughter and music wash over you as you replayed the season in your mind—every moment you had spent avoiding Franco, pretending like your heart wasn’t breaking every time you saw him.

“Hey.” His voice startled you, pulling you from your thoughts.

You turned around, and there he was—Franco, standing there, his eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in a long time. Regret. Pain. Love.

“I’ve been looking for you all night,” he said softly, stepping closer. He was still in his race suit, unzipped to his waist, a reminder of everything that had changed, and yet, everything that still felt the same.

“You found me,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You hadn’t seen him this close in what felt like forever. His presence stirred up emotions you had tried so hard to bury, but here they were, bubbling up to the surface.

“I didn’t think you’d stay.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncertain, a far cry from the confident driver everyone saw on the grid. “I thought you’d already be gone.”

You shook your head, unable to find the words. There was so much you wanted to say, but where would you even begin?

Franco took another step toward you, his eyes searching yours. “I miss you,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing, for both of us, for our careers. But I was wrong. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay without you. It’s not. I’m not.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you had been carrying the weight of this heartbreak for so long that it felt almost impossible to let it go. “Franco, we—” You paused, trying to gather yourself. “We made a choice. You made a choice.”

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice desperate. “I know I made the choice, but it was the wrong one. I thought we could just focus on our careers and put everything else aside, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend like you’re not the most important thing in my life.”

You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I thought I could handle it too,” you admitted. “I tried to be professional. I tried to focus on my work with Alex and push everything else away, but it’s been… it’s been hell.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he stepped even closer, so close you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. “I thought I was doing what was best for us, for you. I thought if we stayed apart, we could avoid all the complications, but I didn’t realise that losing you was the biggest mistake I could make.”

Tears blurred your vision, and before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance between you and wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you into his chest, holding you tight as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and strong, and for the first time in months, you felt like you could finally breathe.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered into his chest, your tears soaking into his race suit.

He held you tighter, his hand gently stroking the back of your head. “I missed you too,” he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “Every day, I missed you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, and in that moment, all the walls you had built up around yourself came crumbling down. The hurt, the anger, the distance—it all melted away, leaving just the two of you standing there, raw and vulnerable.

And then he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay. But then, as you kissed him back, it deepened, all the months of pain and longing pouring into that one kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of everything you had been through together, everything you had survived. It was a kiss that reminded you why you had fallen in love with him in the first place.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were crying. His forehead rested against yours, his hands still holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “I never stopped loving you.”

You let out a soft sob, nodding as you wiped the tears from your cheeks. “I love you too, Franco. I never stopped. But we can’t just pick up where we left off. It’s been months. We’ve both changed, and... I’m still so hurt.”

Franco's face crumpled with regret, his eyes filled with desperation. “I know I messed up. I don’t want to rush anything. I just want to be with you again, even if it takes time. We can take it slow. I’m willing to do whatever it takes, just—please. I can’t lose you again.”

You shook your head, your heart breaking all over again, but this time, for a different reason. “Franco, I don’t think you understand. It’s not just about time or taking it slow. I’ve been trying to heal, trying to move on from everything. You hurt me, and I can’t go back to that place.”

He swallowed, his voice shaky. “But we can try—can’t we? We can figure it out together. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

You looked down, your hands trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “It’s not that simple. I’ve accepted an offer, Franco.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “An offer?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the next words. “Red Bull offered me a position, and I took it. I’m going to be Max Verstappen’s new race engineer.”

The shock on Franco’s face was immediate, his body stiffening as he processed what you said. “Red Bull? Max’s engineer?” His voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief clouding his expression.

You nodded, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over again. “This is my chance, Franco. My career—this is everything I’ve worked for, and I can’t let it slip away because of what we used to be.”

His lips parted, but no words came out. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but so was the understanding. He took a step back, realising that he had already lost you, not because you didn’t love him, but because too much had changed.

“I… I didn’t know,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as you spoke. “I didn’t plan for it to happen like this. But this is what I need to do, for me. I need to move forward.”

Franco stood there, silent, his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried to absorb the reality of your words. “So… this is it?”

You wiped away the last of your tears, your heart heavy but resolute. “I think it has to be. I’ll always care about you, but I can’t keep holding on to something that’s hurting me. You have your future, and I have mine.”

He looked up, his gaze searching yours one last time, as if hoping for a miracle. But when he saw the finality in your eyes, he nodded, defeated. “I understand.”

It was the hardest thing you’d ever done—walking away from Franco when you still loved him. But this wasn’t just about love anymore. It was about you, your dreams, and your future. And for the first time in a long time, you were choosing yourself.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background as you stepped into the unknown, leaving behind the man who had once meant everything.

But you didn’t look back. Not this time.

--- THE END ---

hope you liked it, part two is on its way.

Lots of love, Em!

[maskxo]

Kylie Set feat. Bergdorf

Download the Mini Hula Hoop by Bergdorf HERE

Kylie Bodysuit

15 Swatches

Full Body Category

Kylie Bodysuit with Jacket

15 Swatches

Full Body Category

Kylie Bodysuit with Jacket Add On

18 Swatches

Gloves Category

Use it to change the jacket color

Kylie Sneakers

21 Swatches

Shoes Category

Decor Version

Kylie Sneakers Add On

15 Swatches

Socks Category

Use it to change the laces color

Kylie Set for Blender ( Shop Only )

Rigged for Sims 4 Male Body

Separated Materials for Mix & Match

Original HQ textures included

Please use this for renders

All LODs // Custom Thumbnails // Disallowed for Random // HQ Mod Compatible

Conversion // Do not recolor or convert // Do not re-upload

SUBSCRIBE

SHOP

Download the Kylie Bodysuit Sample for FREE

Connect with us at: Instagram I Pinterest I Tumblr I Patreon

Render Credit: @ahxmya

[bergdorfverse]

Leslie Set feat. Brior

Download the Leslie Set by Brior HERE

You will get:

Canvas Embrace Hobo Bag

42 Swatches

2 Hand Placements ( L & R )

Urban Outlaw Sneakers

2 Versions ( Male & Female )

Shoes Category

OG Phantom Sneakers

2 Versions ( Male & Female )

Shoes Category

Leslie Set for Blender ( Shop Only )

Original HQ textures included

Separated Materials for Extra Customization Options

Please use this for renders

All LODs // Disabled for Random // Custom Thumbnail

Conversion // Do not recolor or convert without permission // Do not re-upload

Base Mesh Credit: Chicala

SUBSCRIBE

SHOP

Instagram // Pinterest // Patreon // Tumblr // Simsfinds

Render Credit: @saintwei

[the-boy-ismine]

midnight desires, feat. skz maknae line! (read hyung line)

tw : sub maknae line (separate) x dom amab reader (& twt porn links fitting each scenario). reader is a jerk/a lil mean. semi-public setting (studio; jisung), grinding/frottage (jisung), exhibitionism/voyeurism, recording during sex/sex tape (jisung), pet names/name calling ('baby, bitch, slut, toy'; jisung, 'baby, toy, good little thing/good boy'; felix, 'pretty boy, tiny little thing'; seungmin, 'baby'; jeongin), dumbification, unprotected sex, use of lube, praise & degradation, minor overstim, mirror sex (felix), size/length kink (felix & seungmin), strength/muscle kink (felix & seungmin), minor size difference, subspace (felix), minor feminization (use of 'pussy'; felix), minor breathplay (felix), belly bulge (felix & jeongin), d/s dynamics, could be seen as brat taming (seungmin), vanilla → rough (jeongin). minors, ageless, & fem blogs dni 🪽 !!

HAN & reverse cowgirl. (i thank my man for inspiring this).

“Don’t turn it off.”

Your voice was quiet but firm—low enough to buzz against Jisung’s spine and make him shiver.

“Hyung,” he whined, shifting on your lap with a breathy gasp as your cock pressed harder between his ass cheeks, thick and hot and so close. “The mic’s still—still on... what if—”

“Then maybe you’ll learn to stop teasing me while I’m mixing,” you muttered, biting down on the crook of his shoulder. “Now grind, baby.”

Jisung’s hands trembled as they gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles white under the dim studio lights. The room smelled like sweat, tension, and barely restrained arousal—his shorts discarded across the floor, shirt halfway off, and his twitchy thighs spread open over your lap as you guided his hips with firm hands.

“Can’t even sit down properly,” you taunted, dragging your cock along his twitching rim, teasing it open but never breaching. “Too tight for me to just slide in, huh?”

He whined, long and low, his breath catching in the mic.

“Hyung—please—I can’t take it,” he gasped, dropping his head back against your shoulder, the slope of his throat trembling as he swallowed. “I need it, I need it so bad—”

“Oh, now you need it?” You rolled your hips just enough to make him cry out again, the pressure of your cock splitting his cheeks and pressing right against his rim. “You were fine mouthing off earlier. Now look at you. Can’t even sit down without whining like a little bitch.”

Jisung whimpered, grinding harder—slippery precum from his cock already staining the soft material of his shirt as it bunched beneath him. You didn’t stop him. You let him rut against you like a needy animal, barely holding back from sinking down on your cock, forced to ride the tease until he couldn’t take it anymore.

The mic blinked faintly in the corner—still recording—picking up the lewd squelch of spit and lube smeared between his cheeks, the faint slap of skin-on-skin, and every breathy, broken moan spilling from Jisung’s lips.

“Say it,” you growled in his ear. “Say what you are.”

“I’m—ah—I’m your slut,” he gasped, eyes rolling back as you finally let your tip breach him, just barely. “I’m your little ride toy, hyung—please, please let me sit on it—!”

You smirked, thrusting your hips up sharply—just once—and that was all it took. Jisung screamed, high and raw and wet as your cock finally split him open, burying halfway inside before you held him there with one hand gripping his waist tight enough to bruise.

“You’re loud,” you hissed, voice thick with lust. “The whole street probably heard that. Gonna give them a whole show?”

He was too far gone to answer. His mouth hung open, eyes glassy, face burning red as you started bouncing him on your lap—your thick cock dragging inside him, punching gasps out of his lungs that bounced off the studio walls and fed back into the mic.

“Gonna ruin your precious audio, baby,” you chuckled, teeth grazing the shell of his ear. “Hope you saved a clean version before I made you stupid.”

“Fffuck—hyung I’m gonna cum—!”

Your hand wrapped around his leaking cock, pumping it in time with each bounce, each obscene squelch of your cock stretching his greedy, spasming hole.

“Cum for me, baby,” you growled. “Let them hear how you fall apart on my cock.”

He shattered. His back arched, hips stuttering, cock painting his shirt and stomach in streaks of white as his hole spasmed and clamped down hard—squeezing you like a vice. You kept thrusting, chasing your own high, pounding into him while he writhed and babbled incoherently in your lap.

You came with a low groan, hips snapping up one final time, spilling hot inside him as he trembled from overstimulation, still trying to ride out every aftershock.

The mic beeped.

Still recording.

FELIX & headlock. (honestly i wouldve gave seungmin headlock based on recent changmin interactions... but felix has always loved muscles).

“Look at you.”

Your voice was a low rumble against his ear, chest pressed to his back as he sat flush in your lap—legs trembling, hole stretched wide around your cock. “You see yourself, baby?”

In front of the bed stood a mirror, full-length, angled perfectly. And in that reflection, Felix was a mess.

Your thick arm curled around his neck in a snug headlock—firm enough to keep him still, not tight enough to choke—your bicep bulging beside his cheek, veins prominent against flushed skin. His hands scrambled weakly at your wrist, not to fight, but to hold on, brain spinning and cock leaking against his belly as you bounced him on your cock like he weighed nothing.

His moans were breathless, his deep voice wrecked and shaky. “H-Hyung… s’too big—m’so full, I can’t—”

“You can,” you growled, snapping your hips up again. The slap of skin-on-skin echoed through the room, Felix’s thighs trembling as your cock drove in deep—so deep—hitting a spot that made his toes curl and his voice hitch.

“Ahn—fuck—fuck…!” He slurred, mouth slack, freckles dark against his flushed cheeks, eyes fluttering open only to watch himself in the mirror and fall apart again.

“That’s it,” you praised, your grip flexing just slightly around his throat, just enough for him to gasp and choke on a moan. “You feel that, yeah? Feel how tight you are around me? Squeezing like your pussy was made for this cock.”

His brain short-circuited.

You felt the way his entire body shivered in your arms—his head lolling back against your shoulder, hands falling limp, mouth opening and closing like he didn’t even have the words anymore.

“Can’t think,” he mumbled, eyes glassy. “M’head feels all fuzzy—too good, hyung—too good…”

You chuckled darkly, licking a stripe up his neck before biting gently at his earlobe.

“That’s my good boy,” you muttered, thrusting up again and watching his body jolt in the mirror. “Look at how dumb you get when I fuck you right. All that bratty mouth gone, and now you’re just a little cockdrunk toy in my arms.”

Felix moaned, loud and wrecked and absolutely gone.

The squelch of your cock fucking up into him was obscene—his hole stretched around you, dripping slick and so damn tight you could barely hold back. He bounced with each thrust, guided by your arm and your hips and the sheer strength you used to hold him exactly where you wanted.

“Feel how deep I am?” you whispered, pressing a hand to his belly where your cock bulged faintly. “Feel me all the way in your guts, baby?”

Felix let out a broken sob, eyes rolling back, legs shaking violently as you jerked him down hard on your cock—and kept him there, buried to the base, grinding slow and deep while your grip held him steady.

“M’gonna—!” he cried, tears slipping from his lashes, freckles soaked and glowing under the dim light. “Hyung, I’m—!”

“Cum on my cock,” you commanded, flexing your arm around his neck again as your free hand gripped his leaking cock and pumped once, twice—

He screamed.

His body convulsed as he came, untouched for so long, the shock so strong it made him shake. His hole fluttered violently around you, clenching down like it didn’t want to let go, and your control snapped.

You thrust up into him one last time, cock buried to the hilt, and came with a feral groan—filling him deep, flooding him while he collapsed in your arms, trembling and twitching, head resting against your bicep like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

In the mirror, you saw it all—your cock stuffed inside him, cum dripping out slowly, and Felix’s fucked-out, bliss-drunk expression.

“Such a good little thing,” you murmured, kissing the shell of his ear. “Can’t even move now, huh?”

He let out a tiny hum, lips curled in a lazy, cockdrunk smile.

“Good. You’re not going anywhere.”

SEUNGMIN & (up) against the wall.

“You always talk too much.”

Your voice came low and biting, teeth brushing his jaw as his back hit the cold wall with a dull thud. Seungmin gasped softly, breath catching, but his glare was defiant—sharp and narrow, like he still had something to prove.

He always did.

“I'm just saying, if you knew how to use your dick properly, maybe I wouldn’t need to keep correcting you all the time,” he spat, voice all smug as his hand slid up your chest, nails dragging just enough to rile you.

You laughed. Just once. And then you lifted him.

His legs wrapped around you instinctively—always quicker to react than to admit it—but his cock twitched the second your palm gripped his ass and your other hand slipped under the waistband of his compression shorts. Still warm from dance practice, his body slick with sweat and his hole already fluttering against your fingers like he knew what was coming.

“You were saying?” you grunted as your cock slid into him in one brutal thrust, forcing his back to arch, his head to snap back against the wall with a quiet thump.

He choked.

His hand flew to your shoulder, nails digging in, and then—bite. Teeth sank into your flesh like he was trying not to scream.

“Mmff—!”

But it wasn't enough. You felt every little noise vibrate against your skin: the helpless whimper, the stuttered breath, the pathetic groan when your cock bottomed out and stayed there. Pressed balls-deep, his legs locked around your waist, sweat-slicked thighs trembling on either side of your hips.

“You like running your mouth so much,” you growled into his ear, fucking up into him again—deep, slow, mean. “But you’re always the first to fold.”

“Shut—ahh—shut up—” he hissed, but his voice cracked right through the middle. He was clinging to you now, fists bunched in your shirt, his knees knocking as the thick head of your cock dragged along his inner walls, punching into that sweet spot every single time.

You ground your hips against his ass and he whined again, louder.

“You're so small like this,” you teased, your lips brushing his ear as you pistoned your hips into him—harder now, faster. “Tiny little thing all stuffed full, legs shaking, cock leaking without me even touching it. This what you call being in charge, Seungmin?”

“F-fuck you—”

“Already am.”

He bit you again, harder this time, but it was all bark. His body gave you the truth: the way he clenched around you, trembling like he was one thrust away from begging. The wet slap of your hips against his ass echoed in the empty hallway, drowning out every quiet grunt he tried to hide in your neck.

You adjusted your grip on his thighs and thrust harder—more relentless, brutal, hips crashing up into him like you wanted to split him open.

And then he whimpered—raw, caught-off-guard, so fucked-out he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah,” you rasped, voice thick with lust, “There’s the real you.”

His eyes fluttered open, glassy and half-lidded, lips swollen from biting down too hard. “D-don’t stop—” he whispered, barely audible over the slap of skin and the wet squelch between his thighs. “Please—just don’t—”

You didn’t.

You slammed into him again, fucking him deeper, chasing that weak little sound he’d let slip, pounding up into his guts until he was practically bouncing in your hold. His cock was smeared with precum between your stomachs, untouched and leaking like crazy.

You kissed his jaw, sucked on the skin just below his ear.

“I’m not stopping until you’re crying, pretty boy. Want everyone who walks by to know who really owns you.”

And judging by the way Seungmin’s walls clenched hard around your cock, like he was seconds from cumming, he wanted that too.

JEONGIN & mating press.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

Jeongin’s whole body shuddered at the praise, arms wrapped tight around your neck like he was trying to hold onto something real. Something solid—something not the overwhelming pressure of your cock buried balls-deep inside him, pushing his legs up and folding him in half.

You’d been fucking him slow, deep, controlled. Not rough—not yet. Just enough to make his thighs tremble and his eyes roll back every time your hips rolled down, dragging over that soft, gummy spot that made him clench around you.

“A-ah—” his voice cracked, high and desperate, breath hitching as he blinked up at you, pupils blown wide. “F-feels good—feels too good—”

“You can take it,” you whispered, one hand gripping his thigh while the other smoothed over his belly, down to the spot bulging faintly with your cock. You pressed there, just a little.

He gasped—legs twitching, hole fluttering around you.

His cheeks were flushed pink, sweat starting to bead at his temples, soft brown hair sticking to his forehead. He looked fucked, even though you hadn’t even gone that hard yet—just slow and steady, the kind of fucking that sank in, made him feel everything, filled him up until he forgot anything existed outside your cock and the sound of your voice.

“You were so shy when we started,” you murmured, bending forward to kiss the corner of his lips. His knees were pressed almost to his chest, ankles hooked over your shoulders—completely open, completely yours.

“Thought you didn’t want this,” you teased.

“I-I didn’t—” he whined, shaking his head—but the way he moaned when you fucked in just a little deeper betrayed him.

Your thumb rubbed his cheek gently, his eyes fluttering half-shut.

“But now you’re taking it so well. Letting me fold you up and fill you nice and deep. Letting me ruin you.”

“‘M not ruined—” he whispered, breathless, but his cock twitched helplessly between you, leaking onto his stomach.

You smirked. “No?”

And then you thrust.

Hard.

Deep.

His head flew back, mouth dropping open in a broken cry as you fucked into him harder now—relentless and sweet, the kind of rhythm meant to make him fall apart beneath you. Your grip tightened on his thighs, holding him in place while you drove into him again and again, wet heat clenching and fluttering around your cock.

“You love this,” you rasped. “Love being folded in half, stuffed full, letting me watch every little expression you make.”

He blinked up at you, dazed, lips trembling. “W-wanna be good—want you to feel good—”

“You do,” you whispered, leaning close. “You feel perfect. Gonna let me fill you up, yeah? Want me to cum deep in this pretty little hole?”

“Y-yes—!”

You grinned, voice low and thick with want. “Then take it, baby. Take every inch and don’t dare let me go.”

a/n : nobody asked for this, but yk since my last anon admitting they were too shy to directly comment on one of my side works, i just thought 'hey maybe someone feels that way too but instead they just have no courage to say anything' so here it issss. do y'all like the hyung line or the maknae line more? (i may have spoiled the maknae line a tad bit more than the other, but i have my reason!).

[gazstations]

Come Home, My Darling

PROLOGUE

ᯓᡣ𐭩 CHAPTER SUMMARY

John Price learns what it means to not have all the cards in his hands. He's at his breaking point when he learns information that ruins his day even more.

♡ Chapter Warnings: Descriptions of a corpse???

◇ Notes: It’s here, guys!! I had so much support for this idea, so I'm excited to bring this to you. I hope you guys enjoy 💜

○●○ SERIES MASTERLIST ♡ NEXT

NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE RARELY GOT THROWN OFF KILTER. He had varying moments of befuddlement, but he always figured out the best play in the end. Well, the best play for him. Some would say his tactics were rather morally questionable. He just got the job done. If he had to make a bit of a mess, so be it.

The John Price on field was far separate to the John Price off the field. The two met, shook hands, but had a mutual understanding that there were lines that didn't get crossed. Maybe the two would have a drink or two, but at the end of the night, their lives were never meant to intertwine.

The captain was a cold-blooded killer. The crimson red stained his hands until it became a part of his veiny flesh. Just as the heart that beat inside his chest, his victims were tied taunt around his ribcage. It was a necessary evil to cleanse the world. Some feats took sacrifices most civilians wouldn't understand.

John Price was different, though. He was smooth. He carried himself with content that would make those who knew his other half stumble. He was a protector, though not with the steel cold grip of any tactical rifle or melee weapon - though he could introduce that easily if it came down to it. That protector side came from softened gazes and gentle pressing on the spines of those he loved.

John Price off the field was a father, a husband. The world dimmed down to his created family. He wasn't the most important puzzle piece then. His wife and two kids were the earth he revolved around. He was meant to light their way, not smother nor control. He took a backseat in a way that made him truly content.

Before July of 2020, that had been his life. He deposited his baggage at the door and became the man his family needed him to be. He was present, he dropped the cigars to once a day, he rarely had a glass as his bedtime snack, and he never spoke about the demons that went bump in the night.

Then that July, the lines of hell and heaven merged, making him take action he never thought he would have to take.

Witness protection was very rarely a medium that affected him. He had known of plenty of assests that were silently placed within a version of protection, but never had he been personally involved. When the lines crossed and someone threatened his sanctuary, he was quick to jump.

He would've been ruined had there been a different outcome. His heart would've grown a bit more frigid had he lost the ability to hold his babies or kiss the sweet imperfections on his wife's beating body. He thought endlessly what would've happened had Kate Laswell not intercepted vital intel.

It was one of the many times he found himself grateful for the American. She knew how to do her job, proving that he could entrust her with three of the most important people in his life. She wasn't the godmother of his eldest son for nothing.

Someone was out for blood. Someone was itching to mutilate his family to get to him. That shit did not fly with him. Yet, it terrified him all the same. It took a lot of willpower to make the experienced soldier lose his wit, and a shadow in the dark had stabbed their grimy fingers into flesh, hoping to spark bleeding. They bit into food that wasn't theirs, sat at a table not meant for them.

It made John Price see red.

Someone was the reason why he couldn't show his son the art of fishing. Someone was the reason his daughter couldn't make an art piece of his face in glitter - weeks later, he was still shedding iridescent color. Someone was the reason he couldn't slide beneath the warm, plush sheets of his bed and carve himself into the fleshy grooves of his wife.

No, because witness protection meant that his family was hidden even from him. Anyone who could have sacred information beat out of them was kept out of the loop. That meant there were only truly a couple of people who knew where his blessed family lingered.

It was a smart yet stupid plan.

With bitter resentment, he would and could not be the first man on scene should something happen. There was a heaping load of information he was not privy to. He would have to jump through hurdle after hurdle just to get one sliver of detail. It killed him faster than any bullet. Festered into malice and despondence.

You couldn’t clip the wings of a man that thrived off of agency.

For a long time, life was quiet on that end of his life. He assumed-and hoped-you and the kids were making the most of your guarded lifestyle. He had to go dark to protect his little bubble. He never breathed word of it to his team, yet in the confines of his sparse quarters on base, he yearned for sustenance.

He longed to be home in the small cottage he bought when he knew he was ready to settle down. It hadn’t been a true home, though, until you worked your magic. There were throw blankets hanging off the back of the couch in case you got cold, pictures hung along every square inch, the colors all matched, and the whole house was warm and inviting. Now, it had kids’ toys to give proof of existence to the two little ones that blessed the both of you.

But no one had been home for months. For all John knew, squatters had ransaked the place and called sweet dibs. At least he had been smart enough to stash important documents away from his family and house. Anyone with the intent to find would see the bedroom safe empty. John's gun and ammo had been with him when he was off the premises.

There was also the deeply rooted anxiety that one day, when his precious little ones played where they shouldn't. He couldn't fathom one of them wielding a pistol and firing It lethally. The less he brought home as the captain, the better.

But one day, he'd have no choice.

♡◇♡

The room was hot, thin blanket on the shitty bed was thrown askew. John lay on his aching back, mouth parted as snores filled the room. It wasn't a satisfying sleep, but the fact he had been allowed to even close his eyes was a gift.

Task Force 141 had just returned from running an operation for the last 3 weeks. There were purple bruises lining his obliques where he and Gaz took a fall off of a balcony. The rest of his body was marred by small cuts, especially on his thigh, where glass had embedded through his attire. He had iced his lower back before laying down, though the decade old flare-up crept up his spine.

An old dog still trying to pass off as young.

His restless sleep was broken by the chattering of his phone. He snorted slightly as he came to, hand blindly prowling along his nightstand until he found the noise maker.

“Price…” he answered, not even bothering to look at the caller ID.

“John, you available?”

John breathed out through his nose, “Always, Kate.”

While John appreciated Kate as who she was, he didn't always like her presence and what it meant. She was the one with the plans and intel. Having information meant it was usually wheels up in one way or another.

John Price could never catch a fucking break.

“I’m listening.” he uttered as he sat up in bed.

He ran a hand over his face, blinking back the vestiges of his poor slumber. He pulled his phone away for just a moment to look at the time. Way too fucking early. His bones creaked and protested as he was forced into wakefulness yet again. Tongue dry, breath hot, body clammy - John quite honestly felt like hell.

Your hands would usually prod at him when he was like this at home. Your form would slither around him like a boa constrictor as your eyes blinked to find him in the darkness. Wandering hands composed him enough to squeeze you back.

Within minutes, you were clambering out of the bed and going downstairs to make some tea. You cared without wasting the time to ask what he wanted.

He missed that.

“Not on the phone,” Kate’s voice brought him back. “I want to meet with you.”

“Don't reckon you're in the neighborhood, eh?” John remarked, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Have a debriefing room for us. Need you to come now.”

Questions festered in his barely operating mind. Of course she was here. Meant whatever she had to say was pretty fucking important. If he was less of a person, he'd tell her to piss off and reconvene when it was socially acceptable. But Kate was his friend and he knew she was just doing her job, just as he always did.

“Bloody hell, Kate,” He pushed himself to rise. Yeah, his ribs definitely took a good hit. “Alright. Am I bringing the lads?”

“No. Just you and I,” she said.

John raised an eyebrow despite her not being able to see him. He wanted to make some remark, but nothing came to mind. He was definitely crabby. Started when he realized he ran out of whiskey. For the first time in a long time, he went to bed straight away. Even as his mind was still running rampant inside his skull.

“We can work the team into the equation later,” Kate added. “I want this under the table for now.’

“How encouraging,” John muttered as he threw on a t-shirt. “What's the reason?”

“Because I have bad news, John.”

♡◇♡

The room was tense, thick with John's anticipation and Kate's knowledge. John was leaning against one of the walls, arms crossed as he analyzed Kate. She had files in her hand and was sorting them while he waited. That was never a good sign. She had definitely stirred up some of the finer shit just for him.

Kate dropped an open file onto the conference table between them. John's eyes flickered down to scan the contents. His face remained unchanged as he took in the crime scene photos. Nothing too extreme from what he had experienced before, but gnarly all the same.

The man was past the initial death, that much he knew. His body was discolored with purple and greenish hues. It looked like maybe he had been wailed on for hours, but maybe that was just the stage of decomposition the pictures were taken in.

His neck was wide open. Nasty throat cut. Bastard didn't go down peacefully. That was for sure. A close-up picture showed the maggots and ants that had already clustered, eating away what they could. The wound was a festering gash, the neck almost completely cut straight through.

“What am I looking at?” Price deadpanned. He was unamused. Don't be a bloody prick, John. But he was already one step before the fall into complete insanity and so his weak fuze was barely hanging on.

“Henry Ortega,” Kate spoke.

“Poor bloke,” John muttered non committedly.

“This is serious, John,” Kate chastised. She gave him a disapproving stare, the lines of her forehead drawn tight. She was evidently at her wits end, just like they all were. He wasn't special in his weary state.

John sighed. “Right, sorry.”

Kate was one of the only people he let knock him down a peg. He respected her far more than he respected a lot of people. She was smart and poised, a good ally to have.

“Henry was in charge of keeping your family safe,” Kate finally said what had been grinding in the back of her head for hours. She knew it would not go over well. She dreaded it, but she had to be the one to face it.

John's face paled, his mouth forming a thin line. His sleep deprived brain stirred with adrenaline. It ignited every nerve in his body, his posture going rigid. “Say again…” he ordered sternly.

“John…” Kate admittedly didn’t know how to explain this.

“My family, Kate…” John couldn’t finish. He pinched the bridge of his nose and started to pace and shift.

This was an absolute nightmare. His family was compromised. Someone had slipped their way between the cracks of the foundation. It shouldn't have happened. Someone got sloppy, and consequences shone bright.

He was a simple father and husband who feared now. He was the protector. He promised his little girl that everything would be okay. He lied in a lot of ways, he had conned. He always vowed never to let that poison taint the one good thing he had in life. Now, his hands were crimson red, and his heart felt tight.

“This is beyond what we wanted,” Kate tried to reign John back in. She needed his head clear. “We’re talking about a mole. Someone is in the system. This could be catastrophic for multiple factions of our security.”

“Mole…” John said under his breath like that one word was arsenic. He glanced up, fixing Kate with a murderous glint. He scowled, “I'll wring their fucking necks.”

“Keep your head on,” Kate said. “If this is going to be too personal for you…”

John towered over her, glaring down at her. His anger was wafting off of him in smokey fumes now. Kate kept his gaze, not faltering in the slightest. She had the benefit of knowing he wouldn’t hurt her. That is why she planned this so it was just them.

“I'm fine, Kate,” John stated.

"Are you?" Kate questioned.

Get your head together, John. He took a few deep breaths. He had to do this right. The time for ripping heads off and falling apart was for later. He was a captain first in this situation. Couldn't be a father out on the field. Not if he wanted to risk being pulled from whatever op they decided to run.

“Right. So, where's my family?” His throat felt like it was filled with acid when he spoke. His composure was crippled. The man was wounded. In an attempt to protect everything sacred to him, he had unknowingly and potentially signed their death warrant.

If that was the case, he'd be on Death's front porch bargaining in ways he shouldn't. He'd pry open his own ribcage and present the pumping mass of his heart to whatever entity was cruel enough to tease him with possibility. He'd pledge his need to be a sacrifical lamb if it meant his children got to grow up and live fulfilling lives.

When Kate opened her mouth, John learned he didn't quite enjoy the answer.

“Gone. We don't know where.”

[offlinesims]

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[iluvmattsbeard]

lost time (m.s)

master list

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: nothing!

preview: your parents and the triplets parents have been best friends ever since before you guys were even born. you were sort of forced to grow up with the triplets. you and Matt were the closest. you two were hard to separate. but as you got to high school, you sort of fell off wanting to go do your own things. now as adults, you guys reunite and decide to make up for lost time.

a/n: i’ve been having so much inspo to write. you guys are keeping me motivated! i really appreciate it. listen to the song while reading, it really sets the scene. i encourage this with every imagine i write! LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE VERY APPRECIATED!

"Y/n!" you hear your mother shout out from excitement as she runs over to you. you put down your luggage before embracing her in a hug, "hi mom! I missed you so much." you say rubbing her back. "I missed you more Y/n!" she says pulling away, giving your dad a chance to greet you. you haven't seen them in months. you were currently living in New York after you finished high school. you always wanted to live in the big city. you were grateful for the opportunity you received. you were majoring in the Arts. it was something you always wanted to do, but being apart from your family in Boston was the hardest thing you've had to go through.

"let's get inside. we have something to tell you." your mom says with a smile. you nod as you grab your luggage but, your dad ends up taking it from your hands. "dad I got it." you say letting out a soft laugh. "no you're our guest." he says letting out a chuckle. you three walk inside the house and you take off your coat. it was currently winter time. that was the reason why you were back home. it was December 20th, five days before Christmas. you were home for the holidays. you hang your coat on the rack and take off your shoes. you walk around analyzing everything. it was still the same, except for the fact that it was decorated for Christmas. you head towards the Christmas tree as you reach out for an ornament that had your elementary school picture in it. "did you really have to add this?" you ask with a soft laugh. "it was too cute not to add sweetie!" your mom says handing you a mug of her homemade hot chocolate.

"thank you mom." you say taking it. "so, what was it you needed to tell me?" you ask taking a sip. "Marylou, Jimmy, and their boys are coming to spend the holidays with us!" you almost choke at your mother's words. "they're back in Boston?" you ask with an awkward smile. last time you seen the triplets, it wasn't quite the ideal farewell. at least with Matt it wasn't. you still talk to Nick from time to time, Chris would like your social media posts, and Matt? well, nothing was happening between the two of you. not ever since high school at least. "yeah! the boys still live with them. I think they're like entrepreneurs or something. Marylou tried explaining it to me but I didn't quite understand." your mom says. "they'll be staying here with us until after Christmas." she adds on. your eyes widen a bit, "oh? you failed to mention this before I got here?" you say with a nervous laughter. "well, I know it isn't ideal for you. I know you and Matt didn't quite leave off on a good note." she says.

-FLASHBACK-

"so what? you meet a whole new group of people that you decide not to spend any more time with me?" you say standing there with your arms crossed. "y/n, we were always together. we're older now. we don't have to be with each other every single time." Matt says frustrated. you scoff before responding, "so you're telling me you want to stop being friends?" he shakes his head, "that's not what I said. all I said was, maybe now we can just do our own things." he says. "well that's not what you've been doing. you've shut me out completely." you say with a hurt expression. "maybe because everything has changed Y/n. you know I don't hang around your crowd." he says catching you off guard. "so just because you gained popularity, apparently my 'crowd' isn't your ideal group of people?" you scoff before continuing on, "yeah maybe everything has changed. you changed." you walk away from him leaving him in silence.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

"they'll be here any minute." your mom says adjusting the centerpiece on the coffee table. you felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. you took constant sips from the warm mug as you sit down on the couch and wait. "you guys are adults now. you will figure it out." your mom says rubbing your arm. you didn't hold a grudge against Matt but, you still felt a sort of somber from the thought of what last happened. you suddenly hear a car pull up in front of your house. "they're here!" your mother says quickly getting up to rush over to the door. you stand up placing your mug on a coaster on the table before dusting off your corduroy pants due to your nervousness. "April!" you hear the familiar voice exclaim your mother's name. "Marylou!" she responds, happily embracing her in a hug. "is she here?" Marylou whispers to her. "yes she is! she's inside." your mother says before looking at the triplets boys. "Nick, Matt, and Chris!" she exclaims. "you boys are so grown up!" the boys smile with them shortly after embracing your mother individually in a hug. "hello Tyler!" Jimmy says greeting your dad, they end up doing a handshake.

after they all greeted each other, they finally headed inside carrying all their bags. you turn around swiftly as you see Marylou gasp from excitement, "my baby girl!" she says running up to you, hugging you. "hi Marylou, how have you been?" you say hugging back with a smile. "amazing now!" she pulls away looking at your mother, "April she looks just like you when you were in college." she adds on. you let out a soft laugh before turning towards the boys. Nick and Chris greet you with a hug before having a little small talk. Matt greeted you with a small 'hello' and awkward smile, which you did as well.

"i'm so excited for Christmas! it'll just be like the old days!" Marylou exclaims. "I brought the album book with photos of every Christmas we've celebrated!" "pull them out!" your mother says putting her hands together happily. now, you were all gathered around the couch as Marylou flips through the album book. "look how chubby your cheeks were Y/n." your dad points out with a chuckle. you felt your cheeks turn red from the comment as everyone laughs. "if only time would slow down." you hear your mother say. "I know. we're getting old!" Jimmy adds on. Marylou continues to flip through the book before landing on a photo of you and Matt smiling as little kids with missing teeth. you were both in matching Christmas sweaters as your head rested on his shoulder. "this is my favorite." Marylou says with a smile. you felt your heart ache from the sight of the photo. "you guys were so small!" your mom exclaims smiling. "yeah. now everything has changed." you blurt out with a fake smile. Matt turns his head towards you, shifting uncomfortably in his stance from the familiar words that came out your mouth.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you guys just had finished eating dinner. “that was amazing April.” Jimmy says wiping his mouth. “very delicious honey.” your dad says rubbing his stomach. everyone thanks your mother as she smiles, “my pleasure everyone!” she says cheerfully. you decided to help your mother clean up the table. the triplets were lead to the rooms they’ll be staying in for the next days by your father. Marylou and Jimmy were settling into their room.

“Y/n, get out of this kitchen.” your mother says pushing you away playfully. “mom let me help you.” you say trying to stop her. “no Y/n! this is your break. go relax or something.” she says still pushing you away. “you’re really not going to let me help?” you ask letting out a small laugh. “no! now go!” she says smiling. you shake your head with a smile before walking away. you head up the stairs, walking into your childhood bedroom. you look around at the pastel pink wallpaper as you let a small smile appear on your face. you were reminiscing over all the memories that you had in here. you were glad to be home. you then hear a slight knock at your door as you turn around to see Matt. “hi” he says. “hey”. you reply.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

it was the next day, the mothers had plans to do some holiday baking while the dads just sat around and watched TV. Nick and Chris were out catching up with old friends as Matt stayed at the house. “Matt! Y/n! join us!” you hear your mom say happily. you walk to the kitchen as you see materials and ingredients laid out on the island table. Matt was on the opposite side of the island from you. “we’re going to bake gingerbread cookies!” Marylou says handing you and Matt aprons. you tie your hair back in a ponytail as you respond, “yummy”.

as you guys started it off, Marylou and your mother left it up to you and Matt to handle the cookies while they started to prepare this upcoming dinner. you were mixing the batter as you ask Matt to pour some flour on to the table. as he does so, you both took dough into your hands as you both talked. “i hope these turn out right.” you say. “me too.” Matt says with a smile. you guys just caught up talking about college as he talked about his career he started with his brothers. it felt nice to talk to him again. the conversation stops as he looks at your face, “wait hold on. you have a little something right here.” he says putting flour on your nose.

your mouth went slightly open from his actions as you let out a small scoff which turned into a smile. “oh really? because i think you have something on your whole face.” you say placing your floured hands on his face, rubbing it in. you pull away and start laughing, “oh you’re going to regret that.” Matt says with a grin, picking up more flour as he chases you around the kitchen. you shriek as you try to get away from him but he soon grabs you from behind, wrapping his arms around you as he rubs the flour all over your face.

“Matthew!” you exclaim. Marylou taps your mother trying to make her look at the scene that took place. “look April.” she whispers. your mother looks up and smiles. “guys! you’re making a mess!” your mother says laughing. your smile soon drifts away as you realize what was happening. you step away from Matt as you take off your apron heading straight upstairs. Matt just stood there feeling awkward.

later in the day, Matt knocks on your door anxiously. "come in." you shout out from behind the door. he opens the door stepping inside. you look at him before speaking, "what's up?" you ask sitting on your bed. you could tell he was hesitating to speak, "I think we should discuss about where we left off from the last time we've seen each other." he says sitting down next to you. "what's there to talk about? you made it very clear that you didn't want to be surrounded by me anymore." you say. "that's not true Y/n. at the time, I just felt like we were always together. I felt terrible for what I said. our friendship was great and I let it go stupidly." he says letting out a small breath.

all you do is avoid eye contact before he speaks up again, "can I make it up to you?" you look at him as you respond, "how?" “well i want to know you better now. you know, figure out what you’ve been doing ever since we fell off.” he says. you just look at him with a blank stare, “i don’t know about that.” you say.

“okay then let’s see…” he says looking at the time on his phone and smiles, "come on." he says standing up. "what? where are we going?" you ask confused. "just come on. put on a sweater." he says walking out your room. after a bit, you meet him outside as he stands there with his hands in his pockets. "Matt where are we going?" you ask putting your hands in your pockets. the snow fall was light, but the ground was coated white from earlier. he starts to walk as you follow quickly behind. "you'll see!" he exclaims. after a while, you guys were now standing at the park you use to go to as kids. "why are we here?" you ask smiling softly. "well, remember our snow days?" he asks. "of course I do. while Nick and Chris attacked each other with snowballs, you helped me build snowmen." you reply. "yeah. i'm glad you remember." he says crouching down bunching up the snow. "we're going to build a snowman." he adds on with a smile.

"this is how you're going to make it up to me?" you say crouching with him. he looks at you as he speaks, "to make up for the times we missed building a snowman." you look into his eyes for a bit before letting out a small laugh. you guys then continued to build a snowman. “it’s head is as big as yours.” you say laughing. Matt’s mouth opens slightly as he responds, “that’s so mean.” you both laugh and eventually after laid in the snow looking up at the starry sky.

“what are we going to name him?” you ask. Matt hums while he thinks before he thinks of the perfect name, “Louis.” you turn to face him as you hear the familiar name. Louis was the name of your childhood stuffed animal that you had matching with the triplets. “you remember Louis?” you ask. “of course i do. i still have his sibling.” he says which causes you to let out a small chuckle.

"I missed this." you hear him whisper. you stay silent as you thought to yourself. where was this effort back then? as much as you missed it too, you still couldn't forget. you sit up, "we should go before it gets any later." you say before getting up and walking away.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you were out sitting on the porch drinking hot chocolate as you had thoughts. should Matt be given another chance? he had you where he wanted you before until he made it disappear. why now does he want to fix things? your thoughts were interrupted when you feel a figure sit next to you. you turn to see who it is to find out it's Matt. "can I still prove to you I want to make up for lost time?" he says quietly. you could tell he was genuine. "okay how now?" you ask. he gets up with a smile as he asks you to follow him. he gets in the car as you join him in the passenger seat. "where are we going?" you ask putting on your seat belt. "some place special." he says as he drives off to the location. you look out the window as you see familiar scenery. you fix your posture as you try to hide a smile, "don't tell me we're doing what I think we're doing." he parks the car and smiles, "come on let's go." he says getting out the car.

he opens the trunk to reveal the famous sled you guys built together with your parents in middle school. you gasp while covering your mouth. "you kept it?!" you exclaim. "of course I did." he says pulling it out from the trunk. "we're going to do our tradition." the tradition was a silly thing you both liked to do during snow days. you would try to get to the highest hill and slide down without trying to fall off. you guys always failed. you and Matt climbed up a steep hill as you look at him. he places the sled onto the fluffy snow as he sits down leaving space for you in between his legs. you smile as you sit in front of him.

"are you ready?" Matt asks, "yes I am but, how did we do this back then? I forgot how steep this hill was!" you exclaim. you both let out a laugh as Matt speaks, "well you know the drill." "try not to fall off!" you say as he slides down the both of you. you shriek from the thrill as Matt laughs. when you guys reach the bottom, the sled comes to a sudden stop causing the both of you to tumble over into the snow. you both laid there cracking up. "I knew that would happen." you say clutching onto your stomach from how hard you were laughing.

"I don't think we'll ever not fall." Matt says shaking his head. "maybe next time." he adds on. "yeah maybe." you reply as your guys' laughter calms down. it eventually got silent as you continued to lay there with your arms by your side. you did miss this. "do you ever wonder what could've happened if we stayed close?" you ask still staring at the sky. "I'm not quite sure." he says doing the same. little did you know, he was inching his hand towards yours slowly. you guys laid there as his fingers were nearly touching yours.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

it was finally Christmas morning, you were woken up by your mother shaking you excitedly. "Y/n! it's Christmas! time to get up." she says cheerfully. you rub your eyes as you look at her tiredly. "the triplets are already downstairs! come on!" she adds on before leaving your room. you get up and stretch before heading to the bathroom to do your morning routine. you put your hair up as you went downstairs. "good morning sunshine." Marylou says with a smile. "good morning" you reply smiling as well. "are you ready to open gifts?" you hear Chris say. "because we've been waiting." he adds on and you see Nick shove him.

"don't act like a child." Nick says to him as Chris rubs his arm. you let out a small laugh as you nod. you sit next to Matt and he greets you ‘Good morning’.

by the time all the gifts are open, everyone could be seen talking and laughing as you and Matt sit there taking everything in. "we need to make this a tradition again." your mom says. "absolutely!" Marylou says. "Y/n?" you hear Matt whisper to you. you turn your head to face him, "yeah?" you whisper back. "I got you a gift." he says. "you did?" you ask raising an eyebrow. he smiles and nods. "oh Matt... I don't have anything for you. I didn't know you were going to be here in the first place." you say with an awkward tone. "don't worry. I got this gift last minute. come with me." he says getting up. you look around as you notice nobody is paying attention. you get up as you follow him out the front door. "what plans do you have now?" you ask letting out a small laugh.

"well, I wanted to have this moment for just the two of us." he reaches into the car as he pulls out the same matching Christmas sweaters from when you were kids but in a bigger size. "Matt..." you say grabbing it slowly. "I think we should keep up with the traditions." he says putting on the sweater. you smile big as you do the same. "where did you even find these?" you asked looking down at the design. "I have my ways." he replies looking at you. you look up at him and smile, "thank you Matt." he smiles as he stands there rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I have one more thing." he says. "what? how much stuff do you have?" you say letting out a small chuckle. "you need to close your eyes for this one." you look at him confused before responding, "okay? you're not going to throw a snowball at me right?" he lets out a laugh as he shakes his head, "just close your eyes!" he exclaims. "fine sorry." you say shutting your eyes.

you heard his feet shuffle in the snow before you hear the movement stop. "alright you can open your eyes." you hear him say. you open your eyes slowly as you see Matt holding up a little plant. "Matt, is that what I think it is?" you say as your eyes turn soft and you gulp. it was a mistletoe. he lets out a shy laugh as he speaks, "you don't have to if you want but, I wanted to see if we could start a new tradition since we're older." you look at the plant as you smile wide, "of course I do." you say looking into his eyes before pulling him slowly into a soft kiss. Matt drops the mistletoe on the snow as he attaches his hands onto your waist.

you slowly pull away as you both hear a click. you and Matt turn towards the front of the house to see Marylou and your mother holding out a camera smiling. “everything has definitely changed.” your mom says. you and Matt look at each other and laugh.

a/n: this is a little longer than my usual stuff! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it! LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! comment what you think about this and if i should do more taylor swift songs for my swifties.

[streets-in-paradise]

Troy (2004) Masterlist

Requests for this movie are permanently open.

Pending requests - 6

Oneshots

Battle Scars  - (Platonical) Hector x Sister Reader 

Our Strenght Lies in Family -  (Platonical) Paris x Sister Reader x Hector 

Imaginary Feats - Patroclus x Trojan Princess Reader 

Silent Pray  -   Part 1 - Part 2 - Chryseis and Odysseus centered movieverse retelling of the Illiad’s startpoint / oneshot spreaded in two parts. 

The Daughter of the Priest -  Part 1 -  Continuation for “ Silent Pray.” 

Fool - ( Pre War) Paris x Healer Reader 

Songs of Sailors -  Platonical (Family) relationships of the trojan royals and allusions to different romantic pairings. 

Pairings Mentioned: Helen x Paris (most mentioned), (Implied) Patroclus x Trojan Princess Reader, (Implied) Achilles x Briseis, Hector x Andromache. 

Faith or Facts - Hector x Greek Seer!Reader (Female) 

The Insolence of Beauty - Post quarrel, Agamemnon centered. 

For Honor and Love - Helen x Paris (requested) 

Into a New Life - Paris x Spartan Servant!Reader (requested) 

For a Love Like This - Paris x (fem) Warrior!Reader (requested)

Undying Legends - Achilles x Princess!Reader (requested)

Accomplices - Patroclus x GN Reader (requested)

The Last Challenger - Ajax x Fem Reader (requested) 

Borrowed Bride - Achilles x (fem) Trojan!Reader 

A Thousand Times - Paris x Fem Reader (requested)

Anonymous Hero - Hector x Fem Warrior!Reader (requested)

Personal Guard - Eudorus (Fem) Shy Reader (requested)

Third Fate - Achilles x Fiancee!Reader (requested)

Things that will grant me your love - Paris x (Fem) Reader (requested)

The Curse of Poseidon - Paris x Helen Merman AU (requested)

Concealed Fighter - Hector x Wife!Reader / Achilles x Captive!Reader 

The Veiled One - Ajax x (Fem)Reader (requested)

Our Fight - Hector x (Fem)Reader (requested)

Artists of Deception - Odysseus x Wife!Reader (requested)

Eternal Courtship - Achilles x (Fem)Captive!Reader (requested)

Matured Desire - Achilles x (Fem) Reader smut (requested)

By Duty and Chance - Hector x (Fem) Reader (requested)

His Weakness - Achilles x (Fem)Reader 

A Man of Honor - Odysseus x Trojan Princess!Reader (requested) 

From the Deepness of the Sea - Hector x Siren!Reader (requested)

The Wave’s Caress - Achilles x (Fem)Reader (requested)

In These Arms - Achilles x (Fem) Reader

Rosy-Fingered Dawn - Briseis x (Fem)Reader (requested)

Beyond Duty, Beyond Limits - Achilles x Goddess!Reader (requested)

Headcanons

Achilles’ Type (requested)

-Achilles + Patroclus’ turnoffs/dislikes (requested)

- Achilles reacting to a Belle-like town’s freak (requested)

Preferences

- Reactions to your singing

- How they comfort you when the war is bringing you down 

-Their Types (Fem partner version)

Achilles x Mycenaean Princess!Reader Series

Part 1 - The Bride’s Misery 

Part 2 - Fame and Tales

Part 3 - The Veil Trick

Part 4 - To Make a Difference

Part 5 - Family Matters. 

Part 6 - A Curse, a Plot and a Rushed Farewell 

Part 7 - Invisible Influence

Part 8 - The Rejected Side

Part 9 - Consecration. 

Part 10 - Royal Treatment

Part 11 - Aligned Improvements. 

Part 12 - The Weight of Words. 

Part 13 - Occulted Relic

Part 14 - Goodbye Encounters 

Part 15 - Separations, welcomes and the story of an avoidable disaster 

Part 16 - Service to Good Judgement. 

Part 17 - Galatea and a Maenad fighting in the second front

Part 18 - The Enygm of the Horse Emblem

Part 19 - No Space for Loneliness. 

Part 20 - The Games.

Part 21 - The Man of Aphrodite 

Part 22 - Diverted Course

Part 23 - Golden Chains

Part 24 - Loving in the Shadows

Part 25 - The Trial of Achilles

Drabbles

Calm After the Storm - Odysseus x Reader 

Divine Beauty - Paris x Reader 

A Breath of Life - Patroclus x Gender Neutral Reader (Requested)

The Right Way - Achilles x (Fem)Reader (Requested)

[ramasalon]

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[torpidx]

First dates

Sum. Your first date with the jjk men <3 (I’ll make a part 2 eventually perhaps)

A/N. I don't normally do short scenarios so I feel like some of the writing is really awkward and I'm sorry :(( BUT, I hope you guys enjoy.

Feat. Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo (all separate), Gender neutral reader.

Wc. 2982

𝜗𝜚 Gojo Satoru - Amusement Park

The smell of popcorn and greasy food hung in the air, mixed with the sound of people screaming on roller coasters and laughing way too loudly. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, glancing around the amusement park, feeling both excited and lowkey anxious. First dates were already a lot, but having your first one with Gojo Satoru? That was something else entirely.

“There you are,” his voice called out like this was just another day, like he wasn’t the most ridiculously good-looking guy in a five-mile radius. His white hair was a mess in the best way, and his sunglasses made it impossible to tell where he was looking, though you had a feeling it was at you.

“I told you I’d be here,” you said, trying to sound casual even though your heart was doing backflips. He handed you a massive swirl of cotton candy with a smug grin.

“Bribe,” he said. “For making me wait.”

“You were literally the one who was late,” you laughed, taking it from him anyway.

“I wasn’t late, I just… got a little turned around,” he shrugged, already grabbing your hand and tugging you through the crowd like he knew exactly where he was going now.

The rest of the day was honestly kinda chaotic, but in the best way. He insisted on riding every ride, even the dumb ones. Tried (and failed) to win you a prize. Bought way too many snacks and kept shoving them at you like he was on some kind of mission to feed you every five minutes. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed that hard, or felt that at ease.

As the sun started setting and the sky turned soft shades of pink and orange, Gojo led you to the Ferris wheel. You stopped for a second, staring up at it.

“You good?” he asked, noticing your hesitation. You nodded, and before you could say anything, he reached out and laced his fingers through yours.

“Come on. I got you.”

And he did. The moment you sat down in the cart, it felt quieter. Slower. More real. And when you looked over, he wasn’t watching the view, he was looking straight at you. His sunglasses were off now, resting on his shirt collar, and his eyes were surprisingly soft. It made your chest tighten a little.

“You know,” he said, voice low, thumb brushing gently over your hand, “this wasn’t about showing off.”

You blinked. “No?”

He shook his head, the grin he usually wore fading into something more genuine. “I just… wanted you to have fun. Wanted to see you smile. Laugh. Be yourself.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, cheeks warm. “I really like you, Satoru. You make me feel… good. Like, genuinely good. I wanna do this again.”

He let out a soft breath, resting his head gently on top of yours. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too. More than you know.”

𝜗𝜚 Toji Fushiguro - Street food

The city felt weirdly quiet that night. Maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was just the way everything slowed down when you were around him. Toji Fushiguro walked a little ahead of you, hands shoved in his pockets, the glow from the streetlights catching the sharp angles of his face. He didn’t say much when he showed up, just a simple,

“Hungry?” like this was no big deal. As if you weren’t mentally freaking out the second you saw him standing there, all casual and intimidating without even trying. No cheesy lines, no flowers, no nervous energy. Just him, in all his effortless, slightly gruff charm.

“Is that your version of a pickup line?” A soft laugh escaped your lips as he glanced at you, his own mouth twitching trying not to grin. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You didn’t ask where you were going, just followed him through some quiet backstreets until he stopped in front of a tiny yakitori stand squished between two buildings. It looked kinda run-down, definitely not the kind of place you’d go to on your own. But Toji just nodded at the bench next to it and told you to sit while he went to order.

You watched him for a moment, his back to you, shoulders broad under the loose jacket he wore. He moved like he had nothing to prove, like he could take on the world but didn’t care to unless he had a reason. You didn’t expect him to know what you liked, but when he came back with a tray full of skewers, it was all the stuff you would’ve picked for yourself. He handed you one and leaned back against the wall like it was just any other night.

“How’d you know I liked this one?” you asked, taking a bite.

He shrugged. “I pay attention.”

“You do?”

It was quick but he simply responded, “Yeah. I do.”

The two of you ate in silence, but it wasn’t awkward. He wasn’t a big talker, but he didn’t need to be. The way he made sure your drink was cold, how he passed you the last skewer without even blinking, it all said enough. You kept stealing glances at him, trying not to stare, but also kind of not caring if he caught you. There was something about him, this mix of rough edges and quiet attention, that made your stomach twist in the most annoying way.

“So,” you said eventually, “is this your idea of a fancy night out?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I don’t do fancy. But this? This I do.”

You smirked. “Should I be honored?”

He leaned a little closer, just enough to make your breath hitch. “You should.”

When you were full and figured the night was wrapping up, Toji surprised you by tilting his head and saying,

“Come on. I wanna show you something.”

You followed him again, this time into a sketchy old building nearby. The stairwell creaked with every step, but he didn’t say a word, just kept going up like he’d done this a hundred times. At the top, he pushed open a heavy metal door, and suddenly, you were standing on a rooftop with the city laid out in front of you. It wasn’t fancy or romantic, but it was beautiful. The lights, the breeze, the quiet buzz of the world below.

You walked up to the edge and leaned on the railing, shooting him a look.

“Didn’t peg you for the romantic rooftop type,” you teased, kind of hoping to get a smile out of him.

His face stayed blank which bummed you out a bit, but he didn’t seem annoyed either. He just shrugged and said, “I’m not. But you like views, don’t you?”

You blinked. “I mentioned that once.”

“Still remembered.”

You fell quiet for a second, letting the weight of that settle. It wasn’t some grand gesture, but it hit deeper. You weren't use to people remembering much about you.

“Are you always like this?” you asked softly.

He glanced at you. “What do you mean?”

“Just…thoughtful. You're being oddly sweet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sweet?”

You grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

He looked away, shaking his head like he was trying to hide a smile.

You stood there for a while, not saying anything, just existing beside him. Every once in a while, your arms would brush, and your heart would do this dumb little flutter. You didn’t know what it was exactly, this thing between you two, but it felt real.

When you finally looked at him, he was already looking at you. His eyes were memorizing your face, feeling confused, you softly spoke up.

“What?” He didn’t answer right away but you could tell he was hesitant about what he was about to say.

“Didn’t think I’d enjoy this much.”

Your face filled with shock, turning away from him and staring off into the city lights. “Me neither.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he stepped a little closer, voice low. “You cold?”

You weren’t cold, not even close to being cold when you could feel his heat. “A little.”

Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. His hand brushed your neck for half a second longer than it needed to, and it lit up every nerve in your body.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured.

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to.”

𝜗𝜚 Nanami Kento - Restaurant

Nanami Kento wasn’t the kind of guy who did things last minute or without thought. So when he asked you out, you already kind of knew the night was going to be… different. In a good way. Not loud or messy or overly flashy, just intentional. And somehow, that was more exciting than anything else.

He met you exactly on time, dressed way too well for how calm he made it look. Crisp button-up, sleeves rolled just enough to show a glimpse of his watch, hair neatly done like he’d been ready for this for hours. When he offered you his arm, it wasn’t some performative act, it was just him. Respectful. Polite. Warm. You didn’t even hesitate before slipping your hand into the crook of his arm, trying not to get too caught up in how steady he felt.

“You look beautiful,” he said, almost casually. Like he wasn’t trying to impress, just stating a fact.

You glanced up at him, a little surprised at how easily it came out. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

His mouth tugged into a small smile. “I try.”

The restaurant he picked was this cozy, tucked-away spot you’d never even heard of before. Small place. Low lighting. Wood and stone everywhere. That kind of quiet where people didn’t have to whisper, but nobody was talking over each other either. Jazz was playing softly in the background, and it smelled like warm bread and wine. He’d already made a reservation, of course. The host greeted him like he was a regular.

“I come here sometimes,” he said as you were led to the table. “Usually alone. But… it’s better like this.”

You caught the small pause in his voice and smiled. “So I’m special?”

He looked at you, eyes steady, and said without hesitation, “Yes.”

Everything just… flowed. The conversation wasn’t awkward or overly flirty, it was genuine. He asked questions no one had ever really asked before. What books stuck with you. What kind of future you dreamed about. What you did when no one was watching.

He listened in that rare way most people don’t. When you spoke, his eyes never drifted. He wasn’t waiting for his turn to speak. He was really there.

At one point you asked, “You always this put together?”

He looked at his wine glass, then back at you, eyes warm but honest. “No. Just when it matters.”

And when he spoke? His words were so clear, so sure, like he always knew what he wanted to say. You couldn’t help but admire it.

Dinner passed in what felt like minutes, even though you’d been there for over an hour. And just when you thought the night might be wrapping up, he glanced at the window and asked, “Would you mind taking a walk with me?” Like it wasn’t something he just thought of, but something he had planned. Just in case.

The streets were mostly quiet by then, the city settling down for the night. Streetlamps glowed gold above your heads, and the sound of your steps echoed against the sidewalk. There wasn’t a lot of talking anymore, but it wasn’t weird. It felt… peaceful. Every now and then, he’d make a comment, about the weather, a building you passed, something random that made you smile.

“I always liked this part of the city,” he said, looking up at the trees lining the sidewalk. “It’s quiet. You can think here.”

“What do you think about?” you asked.

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Lately? You.”

At some point, he stopped. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten until he turned slightly toward you, reached up, and gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was light, but it sent your heartbeat into full chaos. He looked at you for a moment, really looked at you.

“I enjoyed tonight,” he said quietly. “I hope you did too.”

You nodded, your smile small. “I did. A lot.”

When he walked you home, your hands brushed every few steps, like maybe he wanted to hold it but didn’t want to rush. You kept glancing at him, catching little pieces of softness in his expression he probably didn’t show to many people.

When you reached your door, he turned to you, and you swore for a second he might lean in. But instead, he just held your gaze with that calm steadiness.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice low, warm, and just a little softer than before.

You whispered it back. “Goodnight, Kento.”

His fingers gently lingered against yours until you turned your back towards him and entered your home.

𝜗𝜚 Choso Kamo - Museum

You honestly weren’t sure what kind of date Choso had in mind when he asked you out. He wasn’t exactly the easiest guy to read, quiet, kinda intense, and always looking like he was deep in thought. But when he suggested going to a museum, it made sense in your head, It wasn’t flashy or crowded, just very quiet and you found that cute.

He met you outside, dressed in an all-black outfit, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands. His hair was tied back a little messier than usual, and he looked kind of nervous, like he wasn’t sure if this counted as a date or just a hangout. “Hey,” his voice low. His eyes flicked up to meet yours for half a second before darting away.

You smiled, a little amused. “Hey yourself.”

He gave a tiny nod, then motioned to the doors. “Ready?”

The museum was quiet, which was perfect. You walked beside him, stopping at different exhibits, some art, some weird old statues, and a whole room about minerals. Choso didn’t talk much, but he stayed close, listening to whatever you had to say about different art pieces.

“This one’s my favorite,” you said, standing in front of a painting with messy brushstrokes and chaotic colors. “It’s kind of ugly, but I like how raw it feels.”

You felt his eyes on you more than the art. “I don’t think it’s ugly,” he said softly. “It’s… loud. But not in a bad way.”

You looked over, and he immediately looked away again, pretending to be super interested in a nearby plaque. It was honestly kind of cute.

After the museum, you figured that might be it, short and sweet, but Choso hesitated near the exit. “There’s this park… close by. I thought maybe we could go.” His voice was unsure, like he wasn’t convinced you’d say yes.

You didn’t even hesitate. “Lead the way.”

The walk wasn’t long, and the park was peaceful, tucked away from the noisy parts of the city. You ended up under this huge tree, and Choso sat down, digging into his backpack. He pulled out a small bento box and looked almost embarrassed handing it to you.

“You made this?” you asked, your eyes widening a little as you opened it. There were little rice balls, tamagoyaki, even those octopus-shaped sausages that looked a bit too alive.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… watched a few videos. It’s probably not great.”

You took a bite of the rice ball and smiled. “Choso, this is actually really good.”

He ducked his head, clearly flustered. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” you said, chewing. “This is ten times better than anything I could make. The octopus guys are a little scary, but I respect the effort.”

That made him let out a soft laugh. Not a full one, but enough to make your stomach flutter. You both sat there in the shade, eating and not talking a lot, but it didn’t feel weird. He was easy to be around.

After a while, you leaned back on your hands, looking up at the sky through the tree branches. “Thanks for today, by the way. I had fun.”

Choso was quiet for a second before he replied. “Yeah… me too. I was kind of scared I’d mess it up.”

You turned your head to look at him. “You didn’t.”

There was a long pause. His fingers were playing with a piece of grass, and he kept glancing at your hand like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should. Finally, super quietly, he mumbled, “Um… do you wanna… maybe do this again sometime?”

You smiled, feeling your face warm up. “Yeah. I really do.”

He looked kind of stunned for a second, then gave the smallest, softest smile you’d ever seen on him. He still didn’t reach out right away, but something in his eyes changed, like he finally let himself believe you liked him back. And then, so carefully it made your heart stutter, he leaned in just a little.

You met him halfway, just a quick, gentle kiss. Barely there. His lips were soft, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right. But it still made your whole chest ache in the best way.

When he pulled back, his cheeks were flushed and his voice was even quieter than before. “Sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize.” you cut in, smiling as you reached for his hand, “It was sweet, I liked it.”

Choso’s cheeks turned pink as he held your hand, his eyes drifting up toward the sky like he was trying to keep it cool. He looked so soft in that moment, it made your heart flutter. You were really glad you said yes to this date.

[anghraine]

Hi! Can you explain what really the power of foresight was with Faramir? I read the books earlier this year and I don't really quite understand it. He could predict the future? Like he would see it in his dreams? But how did he found out from Gollum that he was taking frodo and sam to cirith ungol and that he had committed murder before?

No problem, it's one of my favorite topics!

The concise explanation: I think Faramir's foresight/aftersight in terms of visions is a largely separate "power" from his ability to bring his strength of mind and will to bear on other people and animals, and to resist outside influence. The visions seem more a matter of broad sensitivity, something Faramir doesn't appear to have much if any control over. The second power is (in our terms) essentially a form of direct telepathy, limited in some ways but still very powerful, and I think this second ability is what Faramir is using with Gollum.

The really long version:

In my opinion, Faramir (or Denethor, Aragorn, etc) doesn't necessarily read thoughts like a book, particularly not with a mind as resistant as Gollum's. Faramir describes Gollum's mind in particular as dark and closed, it seems unusually so—

"There are locked doors and closed windows in your mind, and dark rooms behind them," said Faramir.

Still, Gollum is unable to entirely block Faramir's abilities. In LOTR, it does not seem that Gollum can fully block powerful mental abilities such as Faramir's, though his toughness and hostility does limit what Faramir can see. (Unfinished Tales, incidentally, suggests iirc that Denethor's combination of "great mental powers" and his right to use the Anor-stone allowed him to telepathically get the better of Saruman through their palantíri, a similar but greater feat.) I imagine that this is roughly similar to, but scaled down from, Galadriel's telepathic inquiries of even someone as reluctant to have her in his mind as Boromir, given that Faramir is able to still see some things in Gollum's mind, if with more difficulty than usual.

(WRT Boromir ... ngl, if I was the human buffer between Denethor and Faramir, I would also not be thrilled about sudden telepathic intrusions from basically anyone, much less someone I had little reason to trust.)

Disclaimer: a few years after LOTR's publication, Tolkien tried to systematize how this vague mystical telepathy stuff really works. One idea he had among many, iirc, was that no unwilling person's mind could be "read" the ways that Gollum's is throughout LOTR. IMO that can't really be reconciled w/ numerous significant interactions in LOTR where resistance to mental intrusion or domination is clearly variable between individuals and affected by personal qualities like strength of will, basic resilience, the effort put into opposition, supernatural powers, etc. And these attempts at resistance are unsuccessful or only partially successful on many occasions in LOTR (the Mouth of Sauron, for one example, is a Númenórean sorcerer in the book who can't really contend with Aragorn on a telepathic level). So I, personally, tend to avoid using the terminology and rationales from that later systematized explanation when discussing LOTR. And in general, I think Tolkien's later attempts to convert the mystical, mysterious wonder of Middle-earth into something more "hard magic" or even scientific was a failed idea on a par with Teleporno. Others differ!

In any case, when Gollum "unwillingly" looks at Faramir while being questioned, the creepy light drains from his eyes and he shrinks back while Faramir concludes he's being honest on that specific occasion. Gollum experiences physical pain when he does try to lie to Faramir—

"It is called Cirith Ungol." Gollum hissed sharply and began muttering to himself. "Is not that its name?" said Faramir turning to him. "No!" said Gollum, and then he squealed, as if something had stabbed him.

I don't think this is a deliberate punishment from Faramir—that wouldn't be like him at all—and I don't think it's the Ring, but simply a natural consequence of what Faramir is. Later, Gandalf says of Faramir's father:

"He can perceive, if he bends his will thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men ... It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try."

So, IMO, Faramir's quick realization that Gollum is a murderer doesn't come from any vision of the future or past involving Gollum—that is, it's not a deduction from some event he's seen. Faramir does not literally foresee Gollum's trick at Cirith Ungol. His warning would be more specific in that case, I think. What he sees seems to be less detailed but more direct and, well, mystical. Faramir likely doesn't know who exactly Gollum murdered or why or what any of the circumstances were. Rather, Gollum's murderousness and malice are visible conditions of his soul to Faramir's sight. Faramir doesn't foresee the particulars of Gollum's betrayal—but he can see in Gollum's mind that he is keeping something back. Faramir says of Gollum:

"I do not think you are holden to go to Cirith Ungol, of which he has told you less than he knows. That much I perceived clearly in his mind."

Meanwhile, in a letter written shortly before the publication of LOTR, Tolkien said of Faramir's ancestors:

They became thus in appearance, and even in powers of mind, hardly distinguishable from the Elves

So these abilities aren't that strange in that context. Faramir by chance (or "chance") is, like his father, almost purely an ancient Númenórean type despite living millennia after the destruction of Númenor (that destruction is the main reason "Númenóreanness" is fading throughout the age Faramir lives in). Even less ultra-Númenórean members of Denethor's family are still consistently inheriting characteristics from their distant ancestor Elros, Elrond's brother, while Faramir and Denethor independently strike Sam and Pippin as peculiarly akin to Gandalf, a literal Maia like their ancestress Melian:

“Ah well, sir,” said Sam, “you [Faramir] said my master had an elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of—well, Gandalf, of wizards.”

He [Denethor] turned his dark eyes on Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt the strain between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire drawn from eye to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.

Meanwhile, Faramir's mother's family is believed to be part Elvish, a belief immediately confirmed when Legolas meets Faramir's maternal uncle:

At length they came to the Prince Imrahil, and Legolas looked at him and bowed low; for he saw that here indeed was one who had elven-blood in his veins. "Hail, lord!" he [Legolas] said. "It is long since the people of Nimrodel left the woodlands of Lórien, and yet still one may see that not all sailed from Amroth’s haven west over water."

In addition to that, Faramir's men believe he's under some specific personal blessing or charm as well as the Númenórean/Elvish/Maia throwback qualities. It's also mentioned by different groups of soldiers that Faramir can exercise some power of command over animals as well as people. Beregond describes Faramir getting his horse to run towards five Nazgûl in real time:

"They will make the Gate. No! the horses are running mad. Look! the men are thrown; they are running on foot. No, one is still up, but he rides back to the others. That will be the Captain [Faramir]: he can master both beasts and men."

Then, during the later retreat of Faramir's men across the Pelennor:

At last, less than a mile from the City, a more ordered mass of men came into view, marching not running, still holding together. The watchers held their breath. "Faramir must be there," they said. "He can govern man and beast."

Tolkien said of the ancient Númenóreans:

But nearly all women could ride horses, treating them honourably, and housing them more nobly than any other of their domestic animals. The stables of a great man were often as large and as fair to look upon as his own house. Both men and women rode horses for pleasure … and in ceremony of state both men and women of rank, even queens, would ride, on horseback amid their escorts or retinues … The Númenóreans trained their horses to hear and understand calls (by voice or whistling) from great distances; and also, where there was great love between men or women and their favorite steeds, they could (or so it is said in ancient tales) summon them at need by their thought alone. So it was also with their dogs.

Likely the same Númenórean abilities were used for evil by Queen Berúthiel against her cats. In an interview with Daphne Castell, Tolkien said:

She [Berúthiel] was one of these people who loathe cats, but cats will jump on them and follow them about—you know how sometimes they pursue people who hate them? I have a friend like that. I’m afraid she took to torturing them for amusement, but she kept some and used them—trained them to go on evil errands by night, to spy on her enemies or terrify them.

The more formal version of the Berúthiel lore recurs in Unfinished Tales:

She had nine black cats and one white, her slaves, with whom she conversed, or read their memories, setting them to discover all the dark secrets of Gondor, so that she knew those things "that men wish most to keep hidden," setting the white cat to spy upon the black, and tormenting them.

Faramir, by contrast, has a strong aversion to harming/killing animals for any reason other than genuine need, but apparently quite similar basic abilities. He typically uses these abilities to try to compassionately understand other people or gather necessary information, rather than for domination or provoking fear. Even so, Faramir does seem to use his mental powers pretty much all the time with no attempt to conceal what he's doing—he says some pretty outlandish things to Frodo and Sam as if they're very ordinary, but it doesn't seem that most people he knows can do all these things. This stuff is ordinary to him because it flows out of his fundamental being, not because it's common.

It's not clear how much fine control he has, interestingly. This is more headcanon perhaps, but I don't feel like it's completely under his control, even while it's much more controlled than things like Faramir's vision of Boromir's funeral boat, his frequent, repeated dreams of Númenor's destruction, the Ring riddle dream he received multiple times, or even his suspiciously specific "guess" of what passed between Galadriel and Boromir in Lothlórien. Yet his more everyday mental powers do seem to involve some measure of deliberate effort in a lot of the instances we see, given the differing degrees of difficulty and strain we see with the powers he and Denethor exhibit more frequently and consistently.

This is is also interesting wrt Éowyn, because Tolkien describes Faramir's perception of her as "clear sight" (which I suspect is just Tolkien's preferred parlance for "clairvoyance"). Faramir perceives a lot more of what's going on with Éowyn than I think he had materially observable evidence for—but does not see everything that's going on with her by any means. He seems to understand basically everything about her feelings for Aragorn, more than Éowyn herself does, but does not know if she loves him [Faramir].

I'm guessing that it's more difficult to "see" this way when it's directly personal (one of the tragedies of his and Denethor's relationship is that their shared mental powers do not enable either to realize how much they love each other). But it also doesn't seem like he's trying to overcome Éowyn's mental resistance the way he was with Gollum, and possibly Frodo and Sam—he does handle it a bit differently when it's not a matter of critical military urgency. With Éowyn, he sees what his abilities make clear to him, is interested enough to seek out Merry (and also perceive more than Merry says, because Faramir has never been a normal person one day in his life) but doesn't seem to really push either of them.

So I tend to imagine that with someone like Faramir, Denethor, Aragorn etc, we're usually seeing a relatively passive, natural form of low-grade telepathy that simply derives from their fundamental nature and personalities (as we see in Faramir with Éowyn, possibly Faramir with Aragorn). That can be kicked up to more powerful, forceful telepathy via active exertion of the will (as described by Gandalf wrt Denethor's ability to "bend[] his will thither" to see what passes in others' minds, and seen with Faramir vs Gollum, Aragorn vs the Mouth of Sauron, more subtly Faramir vs Denethor). At a high point of strain this can be done very aggressively or defensively (Denethor vs Gandalf, Denethor vs Saruman, Denethor vs Sauron seriously is there a Maia that man won't fight, Faramir vs the Black Breath given his completely unique symptoms that Aragorn attributes to his "staunch will", possibly Aragorn vs the Black Breath in a healing capacity...).

Anyway, I hope these massive walls of text are helpful or interesting! Thanks for the ask :)

[rudyking]

Attached at the hip:

JJ's son, Ethan is attached to his father and clings to him like a second leg.

The salty air of the Outer Banks hung thick with the scent of brine and sunscreen as JJ Mayfield attempted to navigate the crowded deck of the Phantom, not with a surfboard under his arm, but a wriggling, giggling baby attached to his hip like a particularly determined barnacle.

Ethan, all of ten months old, was a miniature version of JJ himself, sporting a shock of shaggy blonde hair, though his eyes were a warm, hazelnut brown inherited from his mother, Yn. Currently, those hazelnut eyes were fixed adoringly on JJ, his tiny hands gripping the fabric of JJ's worn-out shirt with the tenacity of a professional rock climber. Deep dimples, mirroring JJ’s own, punctuated his beaming smile.

“Dude, you look like you’ve grown a human limb,” John B drawled from where he leaned against the mast, a smirk playing on his lips. Kiara was beside him, filming the scene on her phone, while Pope snickered, adjusting his glasses. Yn, perched on a cooler, simply watched with a gentle, amused smile.

JJ shot a glare at John B, which was somewhat softened by the rosy hue of fatherly affection warming his features. “Ha ha, real funny, Routledge. Maybe try carrying around fifteen pounds of pure, unadulterated love for five minutes and then talk to me about limbs.”

Ethan, sensing his father's tone, let out a happy squeal, burying his face into JJ's neck. JJ automatically tightened his grip, his rebellious streak momentarily subdued by an overwhelming wave of tenderness. He was JJ Maybank, pogue royalty, the king of questionable decisions and even more questionable dives – and now, inexplicably, he was a dad. And a damn good one, if he did say so himself.

“It’s kinda cute, actually,” Kiara admitted, lowering her phone slightly. “He’s like your shadow, but, you know, way smaller and less likely to steal boats.”

“Hey!” JJ protested, feigning offense, even though a small grin tugged at his lips. “I resent that! And for the record, I only borrowed that boat. Temporarily.” He winked at Ethan, who responded by dribbling a bit of drool down JJ’s shoulder. “See? He knows I’m innocent.”

Yn chuckled, her laughter like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. “He knows you’re his favorite jungle gym, J.”

The truth was, Ethan wasn't just clingy, he was essentially glued to JJ. It had started subtly, a preference for JJ's arms, escalating into full-blown meltdowns if JJ dared to put him down for more than five seconds. Yn, bless her patient soul, had tried everything – cuddles, toys, distracting him with shiny objects – but Ethan was a JJ-seeking missile.

“It’s separation anxiety,” Pope declared, adjusting his glasses again, sounding like a seasoned child psychologist. “Perfectly normal at this age. He’s just… um… particularly attached to JJ.” Pope’s analytical tone couldn’t quite mask the amusement dancing in his eyes.

JJ rolled his eyes, but secretly, a part of him, the vulnerable, loving part he usually kept fiercely guarded, swelled with pride. Ethan loved him. Like, really loved him. It was a bizarre and wonderful feeling.

“Attached is an understatement, Pope,” JJ muttered, shifting Ethan slightly as he tried to retrieve a beer from the cooler with one hand. “This kid thinks my leg is some kind of high-rise condo.”

Later that day, they were at the Wreck, the usual Pogue hangout, the air thick with the scent of fried seafood and salty tales. JJ was attempting to eat a basket of shrimp, a challenging feat given the tiny human appendage currently latched onto his arm.

“You gonna share with your mini-me, J?” Kiara teased, watching as Ethan’s eyes tracked every shrimp JJ lifted to his mouth.

“He’s got his own mushy peas, Kie,” JJ retorted, nodding towards Yn who was expertly spoon-feeding Ethan from a small container. “This is daddy fuel.”

Suddenly, Pope, in a moment of uncharacteristic impulsiveness, reached out and gently tried to detach Ethan from JJ’s arm. “Let’s see if he’ll come to Uncle Pope for a bit.”

The reaction was instantaneous and dramatic. Ethan’s face crumpled, his adorable dimples disappearing as his eyes widened in horror. He unleashed a wail that could rival a foghorn, his tiny body arching backwards towards JJ as if Pope had just tried to steal his last lifeline.

JJ, shrimp forgotten, instinctively pulled Ethan closer, cradling him protectively. “Woah, woah, buddy, it’s okay, it’s just Pope.” He glared at Pope, a hint of his bad temper flickering in his blue eyes. “Dude! You scared him half to death!”

Pope recoiled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry! Just… curious.” He looked genuinely bewildered by the intensity of Ethan’s reaction.

Kiara, however, was doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down her face. “Oh my god, Pope, I think you just broke the baby!”

Even John B was chuckling, shaking his head in disbelief. “Dude, that kid is velcroed to you. You’re stuck with him for life, JJ.”

Yn, ever the calming presence, gently took Ethan from JJ, murmuring soothingly. Surprisingly, Ethan calmed down almost immediately in her arms, though his eyes remained fixed on JJ, a silent plea for reassurance.

“He’s alright, Kie,” Yn said, her voice soft but firm, shooting Kiara a look that silenced her laughter. “He’s just… sensitive.” She glanced at JJ, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “And maybe a little bit spoiled by his dad.”

JJ puffed out his chest, a playful smirk returning to his face. “Spoiled? Nah. Loved? Absolutely.” He reached out a finger and gently poked Ethan’s chubby cheek, and the baby responded with a gummy smile, his earlier distress forgotten.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, JJ sat on the porch of the Chateau, Ethan nestled asleep on his chest. Yn was beside him, her head resting on his shoulder, the familiar comfort of her presence a balm to his often-restless soul.

“He’s really something, isn’t he?” Yn whispered, her voice filled with love as she watched their son sleep.

JJ looked down at Ethan, his heart swelling with an emotion he couldn’t quite articulate. It wasn’t just love, it was something deeper, something primal and fiercely protective. This tiny human, this clingy, demanding, drool-covered creature, had completely rearranged his world, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“He is,” JJ agreed, his voice softer than usual. “He’s… perfect.” He gently stroked Ethan’s soft hair. “And yeah, he’s a stage-five clinger. But hey,” he shrugged, a hint of his usual smart-alecky tone returning, “at least I know someone will always be happy to see me, right?”

Yn chuckled, nudging him playfully. “He’s happy to see you because you’re his personal snack dispenser and fun-time daddy. But yeah, he loves you, J. We both do.”

JJ leaned in and kissed Yn’s forehead, a genuine, affectionate gesture that spoke volumes. He was JJ Maybank, the wild card, the pogue who lived life on the edge. But he was also JJ, Ethan’s dad, Yn’s partner, and in the chaos of fatherhood, amidst the clinginess and the sleep deprivation and the constant worry, he had found a kind of happiness he never knew existed.

Ethan stirred in his sleep, nuzzling closer to JJ’s chest, his little hand reaching up to grip JJ’s shirt again. JJ smiled, deep dimples carving themselves into his cheeks. Yeah, life with a velcro baby was chaotic, messy, and sometimes downright hilarious. But it was also filled with a love so fierce and pure, it made even a pogue like JJ Mayfield feel grounded and whole.

And in the Outer Banks, where life could be as unpredictable as the tides, that was a pretty damn good anchor to have. He looked out at the ocean, the waves whispering secrets only the wind could understand, and knew, with a certainty that warmed him from the inside out, that even with a baby permanently attached to his hip, his adventure was only just beginning.