#strawberry!reader

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

Say You Swear

JJ Maybank x Strawberry

Synopsis:JJ can’t ever be serious even when it comes to proposing

cw:none

a/n:proofread by drunk sexy @starfxkrinc

divider by @starfxkrinc my shaylaaaaa

It started weird.

JJ woke up before her.

Already showered. Teeth brushed. Hair brushed back and damp. He smelled like her body wash and his breath wasn’t tragic.

He even had on lotion.

No yelling. No threats of neutering.

That’s when she knew something was up.

“You sick?” she asked when he came out, towel low, hair wet, smelling like fresh berries instead of regret.

“Nah,” he grinned, pecking her cheek.

“Just felt like bein’ clean for you today.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Who died?” she mumbled, sitting up more and squinting up at him suspiciously from her pillow.

“Nobody,” he shrugged, way too casual.

“What you break?”

“Nothin’.”

“Who you hit?”

“Nobody!”

“Did you cheat on me?”

“What?!”

“So you’re doing all of this without me telling you? Are you sure you’re not trying to cheat?”

He leaned down, kissed her cheek, grinning.

“Nah. Just figured you’d wanna fuck me later if I smelled like strawberries and not swamp water.”

She let it go for the moment.

But it only got weirder.

By noon, JJ was wearing real clothes. Like, real clothes. No holes. No stains. A button-down shirt she bought him two birthdays ago still with the tag on it.

His hair was brushed. His nails were clipped.

“Where we goin’? Your parole hearing?”

JJ just laughed and said,“Trust me, you’ll like it.”

By 3PM, they were walking around a beach boardwalk, holding hands. JJ was suspiciously polite.

Opened doors. Bought her snacks. Kissed her temple every few minutes like he was a gentleman and not the same boy who once used her loofah to scrub his balls and didn’t tell her until two weeks later.

She started side eyeing him heavy.

“Why you bein’ nice?”

“I’m always nice.”

“You farted on me in your sleep last night.”

“It was romantic.”

John B and Pope tagged along for moral support and because Strawberry made JJ promise no funny business if they were going out.

But they were watching JJ like he had a bomb strapped under his shirt.

“Y’all keep lookin’ at me like I’m gonna get assassinated,” Strawberry snapped, licking ice cream.

“Just making sure JJ doesn’t pass out before he…” Pope trailed off.

“Before he what?”

“…Nothing.”

By sunset, they’re at the beach.

JJ’s got his arm around her, both of them in the sand, her legs across his lap. Her gloss is fading, her hoops are catching the pink of the sky, and she looks so stupid beautiful he’s lowkey dizzy.

She’s still side eyeing him, though.

“If you’re dying,” she says, “you better tell me now. I’m not raising no children with John B.”

“I ain’t dying.”

“You on drugs?”

“Always, but no more than usual.”

“Then what the hell is wrong with you? Are you nervous for something?” she asked, squinting at him.

“What? No. I’m chillin’.”

“You peed four times since we got here.”

“Hydrated king.”

She rolled her eyes.

And that’s when he shifts.

Heart thumping like crazy.

John B whisper-yelling “now!”

Pope mouthing don’t fuck this up.

JJ leans back and drops to one knee.

Right there in the sand, covered in salt and nerves and strawberry shampoo.

“Baby…”

“Don’t call me baby. What you doing?”

“Baby.”

“What you doing?”

He pulls out a little box. No velvet. Just a wrinkled white one with stickers on it and a ring inside that shines.

It ain’t big. But it’s real. And it’s his everything.

“You boss me around like I’m your dog. You cuss me out like I’m your toddler. You steal my hoodies, clog my sink, and threaten to break up with me if I forget your fries.”

“But I love you. I love you more than I love being an idiot. Which is crazy, ‘cause I’m really good at being an idiot.”

Her lip gloss is gone now. She’s staring. Speechless.

Pope is holding his breath. John B’s recording.

JJ swallows. Looks up at her like he’s gonna die if she says no.

“Will you marry me?”

She blinks.

Scoffs.

“Stay you swear.”

“I swear, baby.”

“Stay you swear for real.”

He smirks, eyes twinkling.

“Nah I’m just playin’.”

“BITCH.”

Pope slaps his forehead.

John B groans “JJ, NO.”

She shoves his head so hard he nearly eats sand.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Who jokes like that?! You gon’ have me on social media looking STUPID—”

“I’M KIDDING—wait no I’m not kidding I am proposing!!”

He grabs her hand before she can throw the ring into the ocean. Grabs both her wrists, actually.

She’s wrestling him like they’re in a WWE match, and the whole time, JJ’s just yelling

“I LOVE YOU. I WANNA MARRY YOU. I WANNA DIE IN YOUR BED NEXT TO YOUR HAIR BONNET BABY PLEASE”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Say yes.”

“You didn’t even put the ring on me, dumbass.”

He fumbles, shoves it on her finger.

“There.”

“It’s backwards.”

“I’ll fix it after sex.”

She stares at the ring. Then at him. Then back at the ring.

“This is real?”

“Deadass.”

“You swear.”

“On my life.”

“On your dick?”

“On my dick AND my balls.”

“Aight. Fine. Yes.”

JJ legit screams. Runs around in circles in the sand. Picks her up and almost drops her. Tries to kiss her and she bites his lip.

“You got me out here looking dumb,” she grumbles, but she’s smiling so hard her braces sparkle.

“You always look good, dummy or not,” he says, kissing her nose.

John B wipes his eyes.

Pope looks traumatized.

“Y’all are gonna be the craziest married couple in North Carolina.”

“How y’all still together is beyond me.”

“Cause I’m fine and my pussy pretty,” Strawberry said sweetly, flipping her hair.

“Cause I’m obsessed and got abandonment issues,” JJ added with a wink.

“Next time,” Pope muttered. “Use cue cards.”

“Next time,” John B said. “Make sure she don’t think it’s a bit.”

“That’s Mrs. Maybank, bitch,” Strawberry says, flipping him off with her newly ringed finger.

JJ grinned, ring catching the light.

“Nah. This the last time. Ain’t nobody marrying her but me.”

She smirked, grabbing his face between her hands.

“Damn right. Now get in the shower when we get home. You’re getting pussy tonight.”

“I already showered today!”

“So? You proposing again later? Get clean.”

[overflowingteacupoflove]

white roses and glitter filled tulips

garderner!pope x strawberry!reader

Pope is working in the greenhouse, on the plants you deem special. Like your white roses and your orange tulips, you insisted that Pope kept them safe in the green house. So he did.

Then you come waltzing in, soft pink kitten heels digging into the dirt as you smile at the roses that are blooming- No. flourishing. "Pope! My roses look so good! You did such a good job!" You squeal to the boy over the hedge.

"Thank you, princess. I try my hardest. Your tulips are lookin' pretty nice too." He muses, wiping sweat from his brow as he prunes the roses. He listens to your heels stick and unstuck into the dirt as he works and then your huff of slight disappointment, probably over something he can't fix.

"What's up, princess?" He shouts, already making his way over.

"Why can't they be glittery. I want glitter to be in them, they'd just be so much prettier. I just don't want them to die. I would hate for them to die, they're so gorgeous." You pout, prodding at the petals of a tulip.

"You want glitter filled tulips?" He asks, throwing a sweaty arm over your shoulder, not bothering to hear your protests. He kisses you temple when you nod. "You'll get glitter filled tulips, princess." He concludes, already trying to find out how to get plant friendly glitter.

[suguruverse]

your personal space has never really truly been yours since you’ve started dating him. his muscled arm around your waist when you wake up in the morning, has become as familiar as the sunrise itself. it used to be cute, his warmth a cozy start to the day. but now, it's suffocating, like he can't bear to let you go, even in his sleep.

you shift carefully under his weight, not wanting to disturb his sleep. his breath keeping its steady rhythm against your neck, and you wonder if he dreams of you as you lean in to kiss his forehead gently. he smiles in his sleep, a small, contented expression that almost makes you want to slip right back into his arms.

the sheets rustle softly as you slip out from his grip. you slowly tiptoe across your shared bedroom, craving the simple pleasure of being able to enjoy making coffee alone. the smell of freshly ground beans fills the kitchen, and you lean against the counter, enjoying the quiet morning.

but as your coffee brews, a twinge of guilt creeps in and you can almost imagine when he'll wake up and wonder where you've gone. despite enjoying the well needed alone time, you knew the longing to be close to him will pull you back into his embrace sooner than you'd planned. almost as if in complete sync with your thoughts, you hear a mumble approaching the kitchen, and then his voice, thick with sleep, calling out softly,

"angel cmon back to bed with me, you know i don’t like sleeping without you"

ੈ✩‧₊˚ gojo, nanami, bakugou, iwaizumi hajime (27) althetic trainer, oikawa, kuroo, geto, choso, yuji, midoriya

[digitald0rk]

CHERRY BOMB

pairing : mark grayson x fem! reader [ implied childhood friends ]. synopsis : he's whipped — more than the cream on your milkshake. warnings : kinda suggestive. like one swear word. w.c : 2.0k. a/n : i cannot stick to a theme >:( taglist : @vm4879bb-blog @fairii-majii @rayaaa4444 @hihowyoudoin00 @hepdeerness @wadehowl3tt

this is pathetic.

he is pathetic.

william was showing him a song from some new band he discovered and all mark can think about is how this song reminds him of you.

his muse, his reason for living. his heart, it beats for you but it also aches — longs for you like no other. oh how he wishes you'd take the pain away and maybe kiss his heart better, like you kissed his small injuries better when you both were children.

he can't stop thinking about how he'd love to slow dance with you to this song, he's not the best dancer — he'll probably end up stepping on your foot, but if it makes you laugh, he'd make a fool out of himself every time, just to see your lips curl up into that beautiful smile and hear the sweet sound of your laughter again and again, the thought makes him smile out of nowhere, making william roll his eyes fondly.

“you with me lover boy?”

right, even william knows, but it's not because he's his best friend, hell almost everyone knows, it would be hard not to with the way his eyes go all soft, slowly blinking— pupils turning into hearts and a soft smile tugs at his lips at the mere mention of your name.

he's so far gone for you.

“what- yes ‘course i’m with you,” he clears his throat, lying through his teeth.

“and i’m not gay.”

it can’t be that obvious, surely.

he hears his phone buzz with the ringtone he’s set for you and immediately reaches for it, grinning like an idiot — a very lovesick one at that, happy you’ve agreed on going to the newly opened cafe with him.

it really is that obvious huh?

he's trying not to run his hand through his hair for the nth time as he waits for you nervously at the cafe, this isn't even a date — he would probably pass out from his nerves alone if it was.

he straightens up when he smells your perfume, the scent lingering in the air, ah hear you come. he quickly glances at his phone screen, making sure his hair isn't a mess or anything.

“hi,” you greet him, your voice — a melody he's grown incredibly fond of, it's something that has helped him so much when he was at rock bottom, it brings him unimaginable joy, yet it also sometimes makes him want to rip his ears off — that sweet voice of yours is also pure torture everytime he realizes he can't have you, he can't possibly risk your precious friendship, that's selfish. and he tries to convince himself everyday that he isn't selfish, but he's not so sure anymore.

“you okay?” oh right he hasn't responded yet, too busy staring at your face, the one he wants to kiss all over.

“yeah sorry . . . just you know,” he leans in, heartbeat increasing, “had another bad guy to take care of,” he whispers, eyes darting to your lips for a split second.

he shouldn't have done that.

not because you're one of his best friends, no, but because now he can't get the thought of pressing his lips against yours out of his head.

although he'd argue he'd end up thinking about that one way or the other.

“ah i see, hope it didn't tire you out too much”

“nah i’m good,” he flashes you a small smile, a kiss from you would be nice though, he thinks.

as you two decide what to order, his gaze keeps drifting to you — the way the light plays across your features, the subtle furrow of your brows as you contemplate what sweet treat to order, eyes focused on the menu unlike him.

and then a strand of your hair falls out of place right on your face. just great, now he has to hold himself back from tucking it behind your ear. it's like the universe is torturing him, but he'll take any of this torture as long as you promise to remain by his side, as long as you're here, he's happy.

he's too busy daydreaming about you so when the waiter asks for his order it takes him a while to snap back to his senses, quickly saying the name of the first thing his eyes land on.

“matcha?” you ask a little surprised as the waiter heads off to get your orders going.

he doesn't like matcha.

“uh yeah, thought i’d give it a try again, give it another chance” maybe you should give him a chance too.

okay he's getting a little carried away, but he can't really help himself. not when it comes to you.

as conversation flows easily between you two — packed with familiar banter, teasing and inside jokes, a warm fuzzy feeling settles inside his chest curling up around his heart, his heart overflowing with love for you.

but will you ever know the extent of his love?

he'd rather not think about that bitter thought while you're excitedly rambling about some new show you watched — god you're adorable, he wants to keep you in his pocket. he's all smiles and giggles, a soft flush adorning his cheeks which can be chalked up to the warm weather but, he knows better.

and maybe you should know better too and then kiss him.

he really wants to kiss you.

the softness in his eyes quickly disappears the second the waiter comes back with your drinks and food, muttering some flirty remark towards you.

his gaze bores holes into the back of the waiter's head, eyes only leaving him when he's out of his sight. he knows he has no right — you're not even his, but he can't bear the thought of you being with someone else, it makes him sick.

“go on, try it. i wanna see the look of pure disgust on your face,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your sweet strawberry milkshake.

oh right the matcha.

he gulps nervously, taking a small sip of his matcha, immediately regretting it, mark has always been expressive and by the looks of it, you were right.

“good?” you jokingly ask. he huffs amusedly, “so good,” he says sarcastically, playing along.

he's thankful you ordered him a piece of his favorite type of cake without him asking, you know him so well — or maybe you don't, considering you don't know how he'd give up everything he has just to be with you.

“this is really good,” he says absentmindedly as he savors the taste of the sweet treat, hands itching to wipe the small amount of whipped cream on the corner of your lips.

“really? can i have a bite?” 

a bite? you've got to be joking. you know you can have the whole thing right? you can have him — his soul that he's sure is intertwined with yours with the way his chest aches when you're not around and his heart, it's already yours. it's always been yours, was never his to begin with. you can have the world, he'd give it to you to the best of his ability, but sure you can take a bite.

he can't stop himself from smiling when he sees you enjoying a piece from his cake, he wants to see you happy, always. he doesn't like when you get sad, especially when he gets hurt, he always feels so guilty afterwards.

you even feed him a generous spoonful of your cake, which he happily accepts. he wonders if the other people in this cafe think you two are a couple — the thought makes him awfully giddy.

the matcha grows on him, or maybe it's the fact your presence alone is enough to distract him to down the whole thing easily.

“you want my cherry?” you ask, already plucking it from on top of the whipped cream on your milkshake, he doesn't protest against your offer, instead boldly leans in — hoping you'll feed it to him.

and you do, his lips brush ever so slightly against your fingers but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine.

the action is oddly intimate, especially with the way you're holding his gaze as he eats the sweet cherry, his body feels like it's on fire.

what kind of foreplay is this? he's gotta ask william.

“thanks,” he manages to mutter out, his voice cracking slightly.

he watches as you finish your milkshake, lips wrapped around the straw-

woah not there mark! he holds his thoughts back from straying into that direction as he finishes his remaining food.

he sheepishly tells you about the whipped cream around the corner of your lips, handing you a tissue — he wants to wipe it off with his thumb, well he really wants to kiss it but he's not that bold. although sometimes he wishes he was.

but then maybe you two wouldn't have gotten this close to begin with — so he'll be himself, the mark you know, hoping one day he works up the courage to earn the right to shower you with all the affection and love in the world.

he smugly grins when you try to pay at the counter and then come to know he's already paid in advance.

“mark.”

“you can pay next time.”

“that's what you always say!”

“hm do i?” he makes a show of thinking long and hard, rubbing his chin and all as he gets a coffee for william — as he'd insisted mark get him something from the recently opened cafe in the area.

the conversation and shared laughter dies down as you two make your way out, it's time to leave and part ways, mark has been dreading this the second he got here.

don't leave me.

his chest tightens with unspoken words and affection when you bid him goodbye, with a hug. he doesn't want to pull away — arms lingering around for awhile even when you start pulling away.

don't go. please.

even though the words remain unspoken —  his eyes speak volumes, even the feelings he's too scared to utter out loud.

and as the wind blows, rustling your hair — you look back at him one last time with that damn smile, he hopes the next time you two are together, it ends with you not leaving but instead in his arms, where you belong.

or well at least where he thinks you belong — he's getting ahead of himself again isn't he?

he smiles back although it doesn't quite reach his eyes, watching you walk away until you're out of his sight.

and now he's left there alone. he ends up taking a sip from the coffee to distract himself but it's bitter — almost bitter like the thought of never having you, never having you as his.

he sighs, god he's hopeless. better get back to william’s before his coffee gets all cold.

“you look like someone just drained the life out of you,” william teases him as mark hands him the coffee that's still somewhat warm, “don't tell me a vampire attacked you,” he jokes but mark’s mind is somewhere else — you.

he already misses you.

“quit moping around and spill the tea already,” william groans playfully, feigning annoyance as he sips on his coffee.

“i’m such an idiot.”

“tell me something new mark.”

“not helping.”

william scoots his chair closer to mark on the bed, “did you mess up?”

“no, i don't think so.”

“the why do you look like a sad kicked puppy?”

“i’ll never have-”

“oh my god not this again,” william sighs loudly, “we've been through this likea gazillion times mark.”

“what kind of foreplay is cherry eating?”

william almost spits out his coffee. “i beg your finest fucking pardon?”

and as mark rambles about you, reliving the memories of you sure makes him shy and giddy — he tells his best friend, “she asked if i wanted her cherry, and-”

“oh you do, real bad,” william snickers knowingly in a suggestive tone which makes mark pause and raise a brow.

“oh my god you are so dense, and you missed the perfect opportunity to flirt,” william rubs his temples like an overworked stressed parent.

“how did you know i want-”

oh.

that kind of cherry.

“william!” mark is quick to throw a pillow at his friend — embarrassed and cheeks starting to heat up, a blush creeping up his neck.

“oof,” william lets out a surprised noise, “hey you're not denying it,” he teases — earning another smack with a pillow from the half viltrumite.

“shut up.”

“you're still not denying the idea, real subtle there.” 

“i hate you.”

© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal, repost or translate any of my work. want more? click here ★

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where you scold theo for dozing off

a/n - was inspired by this post + a tiktok I saw where this girl was talking about how her boyfriend games till like 3 am with his friends but nods off at like 9 pm with her and all the comments were like girl he's so relaxed w you cuz of how much he loves you and it was all just soooo cute 😭😭 anyways enjoyyy :))

tropes/warnings - flufffff, eepy theo, established relationship, cuddling idk

word count - 830

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @iamheretoread1234

"Teddy."

"Teddy?"

"Theodore."

One hard shove to his sternum later, Theo's eyes flew open.

"'M up - "

You gave him the stink eye as he coughed sporadically, choking on his saliva. You sniffed disapprovingly.

"Honestly, Teddy. I didn't bring you here to nap."

Theo glanced around incredulously. The two of you were sitting on a picnic blanket on the side of a grassy knoll on the other side of the Great Lake. After indulging in some chocolate-covered berries, a sleepy, hazy kind of quiet had descended on the hill in that late afternoon sun. In short, it was a perfectly comfortable setting for napping.

He winced, rubbing at his sternum. "Oh, c'mon. You feed me these - these fuckass strawberries - "

"Don't talk about my strawberries that way!"

" - then you lie me down and expect me to stay awake? It's warm out, cara. I sleep warm. You know I sleep warm."

Scoffing, you lie down next to him, muttering darkly under your breath. Still, you can't resist running your fingers through his hair, gently raking at his scalp. It's an addicting thing, watching the tense parts of his face relax, watching that crease between his eyebrows disappear. Some of your earlier anger dissipates.

“You are so easy,” you tease, fingers still carding through his hair.

“Only for you, amor,” he murmurs, voice low and knowing.

Your face burns. “Merlin, shut up.”

Chuckling, he stretched his arms over his head before letting them fall lazily back down, one draping across your back. He tugged you against him, his warmth seeping into you.

"How is it that you can stay up till 3 am with your friends, but ten minutes with me and you're out like a light?" you mused. You pull your fingers away from his scalp.

"Am I that boring, Theo? Do I put you to sleep?"

Theo huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers ghosting over your shoulder before settling there, warm and grounding. His other hand found the curve of your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer.

"Obviously," he murmured, voice still thick with drowsiness. "You drone on and on - "

A sharp pinch to his ribs cut him off, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. "Fuck - alright, alright." His grip tightened, holding you in place before you could enact further vengeance. "You don't put me to sleep."

Theo's half-lidded eyes fluttered shut again, his breathing evening out. His fingers resumed their slow tracing along your arm, dragging lazy patterns that sent shivers up your spine. As your own eyelids grew heavier, your eyes drifted over the lake’s glimmering surface.

"Actually," you murmured after a beat, pressing your cheek against his chest, "this is quite nice."

Theo made a show of pretending to shove you off.

"I see how it is," he grumbled as you laughed. "When you want to doze, it's perfectly fine, but Merlin forbid I"—he poorly stifled a yawn, blinking blearily—"get a little shut-eye."

You scoffed. "This is different. Even logistically speaking, how am I supposed to drag you back to the castle? You sleep through anything, Nott."

Theo grunted. "And you sleep through absolutely nothing."

You smiled lazily against his chest, knowing exactly what he meant. Many a night, he'd creep into your dorm, taking great pains to quietly shuck off his jacket and shoes, only for you to stir the second the mattress dipped. He’d scowl at you in the dim moonlight as you blinked at him sleepily, voice hushed but teasing as he slipped under the covers beside you. Every single time, he’d scold you for staying up, telling you in that firm, low voice of his to go to sleep, as if he hadn't been the one showing up at your bedside to begin with.

"Maybe you should try staying up with me for once," you said idly.

Theo snorted. "You'd make me watch those god-awful Muggle films."

"You love my god-awful Muggle films."

He hummed, neither confirming nor denying. You tilted your head to look at him, absentmindedly running your fingers through his hair again.

"I just wish you'd save some of that energy with the boys for me."

Theo sighed, long and slow.

"Can’t help it," he mumbled into your hair, fingers ghosting over your arm. "You’re so...warm. And soft. And you smell - " he dropped his head to the hollow of your neck as he inhaled, holding you close even as you squirmed in his ticklish hold, "- like that. Like...home. Like love."

You could sense him dropping off again in the way his words slurred and his voice quieted. He was probably too drowsy to even know what he was saying. For a moment, all was silent except for the rustling that came with the occasional gentle breeze. You felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him pressing into your side.

Maybe you should shove him awake again. But then again…

You nestled closer to him, your own eyes drooping shut.

Maybe not.

[yasashii-leaf]

[fushiguro-megloomy]

Strawberry Wine

Pt 2. After the Distance

[part 1] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader Tags: porn with plot, viktor is a tease (ツ), lots of buildup, smut, no use of y/n, afab!reader wc: 3.8k  notes: It’s here :’) i went over this like 25 times and got a friend to read it to make sure it was good enough so don't let it flop yall asjhashg art from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah, cafekitsune & nicodefresas

The next couple of months were… interesting. While you thought you knew Viktor—at least as well as someone could after a few months—you were quickly discovering that beneath his easy charm and quick wit lay a patient, calculated man, with a streak of something far less innocent. Slick, greedy even. And that side of him was making it increasingly difficult to keep things under wraps.

You’d laid it down early on that this thing between you—whatever it was—would stay between the two of you. Not that you thought Jayce would care, necessarily. If anything, your reasons for secrecy stemmed entirely from your own reservations. You were both workaholics, after all. Your galleries were finally gaining more traction, and Viktor had his research and the lab. Not to mention you’d promised yourself long ago that your career would come first. No distractions, no derailments—especially not for a man.

And yet, your resolve was starting to crack.

Again, you were learning Viktor to be a slick man, one with nimble fingers, skilled not just in tinkering with tech but in unraveling you entirely. Fingers that found their way under the table at dinner, brushing lightly over your thigh and leaving you fumbling for words mid-response to one of Jayce’s questions. Fingers that pinched your ass when no one was looking, the sudden assault making you glare at him—only to catch the smug tilt of his mouth.

But it wasn’t all teasing. Those same fingers smoothed your hair back from your face in the aftermath, his cool, calloused thumb tracing over your kiss-swollen lips with a tenderness that left your heart beating recklessly. His touch was addictive, and you were a hopeless addict.

Of course, like any addict, withdrawals were inevitable.

The boys had been called away—a business deal overseas that was only supposed to last a weekend instead turning into a nine day ordeal. You’d kept yourself busy with work, trying to throw yourself into painting and coordinating for another upcoming gallery showing. But your thoughts had a nasty habit of drifting, especially every time Jayce would video call with a trip update. You smiled, nodding along as he happily recounted the details of their successful presentations and the eventual closing of the deal.

It wasn’t Jayce’s enthusiasm that distracted you—it was the figure in the background. Viktor, half out of frame, often hunched over a small workspace or absently flipping through pages of a notebook. His focus, sharp as ever, made your pulse quicken despite yourself.

Once, during one of these calls, Viktor looked up. His eyes flicked toward the camera, meeting yours for just a fraction of a second. It was nothing, really—just a glance. But it felt like a spark, sending heat crawling up your neck and pooling low in your stomach.

You tried to ignore it.

“...And then Viktor had the most insane suggestion about combining thermochemical—oh, speak of the devil!” Jayce’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Viktor leaned into frame, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “I’m sure it wasn’t that insane,” he said smoothly, his voice making your chest tighten.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Jayce replied, rolling his eyes before glancing back at you. “Anyway, the good news is we’re wrapping up here. We should be flying back the day after tomorrow. You’ll finally get some peace and quiet without me bombarding you with updates!”

“Peace and quiet? Jayce, I’d hardly call your calls a disturbance,” you replied lightly, ignoring the sudden spike of anticipation at his words.

Viktor spoke up again, his voice smoother this time. “I’m sure it’ll be good to get back. Familiar surroundings and all that.” His eyes flicked to you briefly, and something in that gaze made your breath hitch. Jayce was oblivious, grinning and nodding along, but Viktor’s yellow gold eyes lingered just long enough to make your stomach twist.

“Yeah, definitely,” you said, forcing yourself to keep your tone even. “Safe travels when the time comes.”

“Thanks! Anyway, I’ll let you go. We’re calling it an early night over here,” Jayce said, stifling a yawn.

The call ended shortly after, leaving you staring at the blank screen. You sighed, leaning back in your chair, fingernails tapping anxiously against the edge of the desk.

-

The gallery buzzed with energy, the hum of conversation weaving through the air as you moved from piece to piece, guiding potential buyers with practiced ease. Your smile was poised, your tone professional as you answered their questions and described your work, but the sting of your bitten cuticles betrayed the nerves you kept buried under layers of polished charm.

Despite your best efforts, your thoughts occasionally wandered. Viktor and Jayce were due back tonight—late, you’d told yourself more than once. You’d have time to finish the showing, decompress, and slip into something casual. It was fine. You were fine.

Still, your mind conjured flashes of Viktor's teasing smirk, the low timbre of his voice in your ear, and—

“You’ve created such movement here,” a man’s voice broke into your thoughts, gesturing at a vibrant abstract piece nearby. “It feels alive.”

You shifted, regrounding yourself. “Thank you,” you said warmly, stepping closer. “That was the intention—a sense of fluidity and life, as if it’s always in motion.”

His smile was appreciative and you slid into explanation, gesturing with your hands to emphasize the piece’s details as you settled back into your element.

The man nodded thoughtfully, offering a few more comments before excusing himself to examine another painting. You exhaled quietly, straightening your shoulders as you turned your attention back to the gallery space. 

The evening had gone smoothly so far, but then your gaze swept toward the entrance and the world seemed to narrow to a single point.

Viktor.

His posture was composed and confident as ever. The low, warm light caught the angled lines of his face, and his eyes were already fixed on you. Your pulse quickened as he began making his way across the room. He moved with deliberate grace, the tap of his cane almost rhythmic against the polished floor.

You swallowed, willing yourself to remain composed as he closed the distance between you. He looked every bit as devastating as you remembered—perhaps even more so after days of his absence.

When he reached you, he didn’t greet you with words right away. His eyes swept over you, lingering as though taking in every detail.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” you said, your voice carefully steady despite the racing of your pulse.

“Plans changed,” he replied smoothly. “We caught an earlier flight.”

“And Jayce?”

“Jetlag,” Viktor said with a shrug. “He went home. I thought I’d make better use of my time.”

His tone was calm, his words innocent enough, but the way his gaze dipped to your lips and then back to your eyes betrayed the true intent behind his presence.

“You didn’t have to come.”

His brow arched, and he tilted his head slightly. “And miss seeing you command a room like this? Never.”

Your cheeks warmed under his scrutiny, but you quickly diverted the conversation, gesturing toward the artwork nearby. “Here for the paintings, then?”

“Here for you,” he corrected, his tone sending a shiver across your skin.

Before you could respond, a passing guest offered a polite nod, drawing your attention away just long enough for Viktor to step closer, wrapping an arm around you in what seemed like a polite, casual embrace. 

To anyone watching, it was nothing out of the ordinary—a perfectly respectful greeting. But as his arm pressed against your back, his fingers slid lower, tracing a line down your spine. The movement was slow, deliberate, and his fingertips dipped just beneath the waistband of your skirt. You held your breath.

“I’ll let you get back to work,” he said, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of control and amusement. 

But before he fully stepped back, his lips brushed near your ear, his breath balmy against your skin. “I missed you,” he murmured. “Malá hvězda…”

Little Star—he’d first called you that in passing, after Jayce had teased you about becoming a celebrity in your field. It had been a lighthearted comment, a playful quip that Viktor had picked up on. But over time, it stuck and became something far more intimate. 

As the evening wore on, you felt the weight of his gaze wherever you moved. Whether you were explaining a piece to a potential buyer or exchanging pleasantries with a collector, you were keenly aware of him in your peripherals. He never lingered too close, always giving you space to work, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

By the time the gallery emptied, you felt wrung out—by the crowd, by the evening, but mostly by him. The cab ride was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the driver’s radio. You sat beside Viktor, close but not touching, though the air between you felt suffocatingly warm. Every bump in the road jostled you, and every brush of his leg against yours set your nerves fraying.

You glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood, but his expression was maddeningly calm, almost unreadable. He leaned back against the seat, one hand resting on the door, the other draped casually over his knee. But his eyes—his eyes betrayed him.

Dark and glinting, they flicked to you, and the corner of his mouth twitched, the barest hint of amusement at your visible tension.

The driver spoke up, asking Viktor something about the best route, and he replied smoothly in that light, accented voice that had been driving you mad all night. You caught his profile in the dim light—sharp lines and soft lips—and you had to look away, your nails digging into the edge of your seat.

“Are you always this restless?” he murmured suddenly, his tone pitched low enough for only you to hear.

You swallowed, the flush creeping up your neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His smirk was a flash of teeth, quick and dangerous. He shifted, his leg pressing more deliberately against yours, the subtle movement enough to make your pulse skip.

“I think you do,” he said, his voice almost teasing. He let his hand drop to the seat between you, his knuckles brushing your thigh. It sent a jolt through you.

You shot him a look, your jaw tightening as you leaned slightly closer, your voice a low hiss. “Do you ever get tired of your games?”

His gaze flicked to your lips before dragging slowly back to your eyes. “Not when I’m winning.”

Before you could reply, the cab took a sharp turn, throwing you slightly off balance. His hand caught your leg to steady you, firm and sure. He didn’t let go.

Instead, in the shadows of the backseat, his fingers slid upwards, the warmth of his palm scorching through the fabric of your stockings. You sucked in a breath, barely audible over the noise of the engine, but your heart raced.

His pinky finger grazed the edge of your underwear, teasing the barest edge of lace. The movement was deliberate, slow, and utterly torturous. He kept his eyes forward, his expression calm, as if nothing were happening.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you pressed your knees together instinctively, but his hand didn’t budge. His thumb stroked a slow, lazy line against your inner thigh, just shy of the place you needed him most, and it was all you could do not to squirm.

When the cab slowed at a red light, he leaned in, his breath brushing hot against your ear. “Careful, malá hvězda,” he whispered, his voice a dark, velvet tease. “We wouldn’t want the driver to notice, would we?”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. He finally withdrew his hand, the loss both a relief and an ache.

The cab rolled to a stop in front of your apartment building, and you practically bolted out, desperate for the cool night air to calm your overheated skin. Viktor was right behind you, but you didn’t dare look back at him.

The elevator ride up felt like an eternity. Each passing floor seemed to stretch on longer than the last, the tension between you thickening with every second. Viktor didn’t help. He stood next to you, but the air around him seemed to thrum with barely contained desire. His once teasing touches were growing bolder, and his breath seemed to waver every time he ebbed closer, his body pressing into yours ever so slightly. The subtle shift in his posture was enough to let you know just how much he was also losing control, how much he wanted you.

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and your apartment was only a few steps away. You barely made it to the door before he was there, crowding you against the frame. His fingers slipped from your arm to your waist, tugging you closer, pulling you in with an urgency that sent a shiver through your entire body.

The key turned in the lock, and you barely had time to step inside before Viktor followed, the door closing behind him with an almost predatory click. In one swift movement, he had you pressed against the wall, cane clacking to the floor and his lips on yours. There was no hesitation now—no games, no teasing.

His mouth was hot, claiming, and you couldn’t help but respond in tandem, body arching into his. 

“Its been too long," he practically purred against your clavicle, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your core.

"Too long," you agreed, though the words came out hoarse, breaking into a soft whimper as his teeth nipped at your skin.

The sharp edge of his bite was quickly soothed by his tongue, a slow sweep that had your knees threatening to give way. His hands slid under your shirt, fingers skimming over your bare skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He groaned softly, his breath warm against your neck when his hips pressed into yours, a deliberate grind that stole the air from your lungs. Your hands weren't idle, either, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. 

Your fingertips dragged over the expanse of his chest, and the subtle hitch in his breath sent a rush of satisfaction through you. His lips never left your skin, trailing fiery kisses along the column of your throat as his fingers tugged your shirt up and over your head, discarding it without a second thought.

He took a moment to drink you in, his amber eyes dark with desire, before his hands were on you again, possessive and unyielding. With a sudden shift, his grip tightened around your waist, and before you could react, he spun you around. The cool press of the wall against your chest was sudden as he caged you in.

His fingers traced the curve of your back, then moved to the clasp of your bra, sliding it from your shoulders.

"Viktor," you breathed, your voice shaky with anticipation as his hands roamed over your now-bare skin, pinching your nipples and mapping every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

Your hips moved instinctively, grinding back into the rigid buldge of his slacks seeking out friction. His low, guttural groan in response sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core, surely staining your panties. His touch, ever restless, slid down your sides and found its way to your thighs, the rough glide of his palms pulling your skirt up around your waist.

The cool air of the apartment prickled your skin as he moved and his fingers curled around the delicate fabric of your stockings. A sharp, audible tear filled the room as his impatience got the better of him, the fragile material giving way beneath his touch. The sound was quickly accompanied by a gasp from you, although it was too late to protest as his hand slid over the bare skin of your ass, his touch unapologetic.

“I'll buy you a new pair.”

His tone was sharp, yet quickly drowned out by the metallic clinking of his belt buckle. It was a wonder you'd made it this long, your head practically swimming, knees trembling as his slacks hit the floor. You wanted to see him, craning your neck in a pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of the body you'd been craving for a week and a half, but he was quicker. 

His grip found the nape of your neck, pushing your cheek back against the drywall while his other hand snaked its way between your legs. A mewl escaped you as those same slender fingers pulled the now sticky lace to the side, wasting no time proding your entrance before pushing two digits inside. Your eyes squeezed shut and you heard him exhale, clearly satisfied with the way your greedy walls practically sucked him in. His fingers flexed, curling a few times in a weak attempt to stretch you out and earning a few muffled whimpers from your shaky form. 

“Please-” it was all you could manage, squirming under his hold, feeble hands reaching blindly for him. 

He was certainly in no place to deny you, especially not as his cock grew angrier by the second, flushed and leaking with precum. When he retracted his fingers it was audible, a squelch that made his mouth water, but there was no time. His hand left your nape, moving to the base of your spine to coax you into a deeper arch and you eagerly obliged while he lined himself up. 

That first languid roll of his hips was pure bliss, the slight burn as his cock stretched you out left you slack-jawed and all the time apart was suddenly forgotten, instantly fucked out of your brain. Viktor was no more immune, a whiney moan tumbling from his mouth as you clenched around him. It was clear neither of you would last very long when the energy quickly became feverish, all semblance of control lost with hips desperately rutting together as pleasure seared its way through every nerve in your body. 

This time when you craned your neck towards him, he relented. His body pushed impossibly closer, chest flush against your back while a possessive hand caught your jaw, reeling you in for an open mouthed kiss. It was messy and unrestrained, his hips never slowing. 

“I missed you-” It fell past your lips into his mouth before you could stop it. 

There was a tiny stutter in his rhythm, almost unnoticeable as his brows pulled together in surprise. It was out of character for you to say such things, raw and unguarded, but tonight felt different— like the time apart had stripped away your defences. 

His grip on your jaw tightened, firm but not cruel, just enough to remind you who was in control. A tiny smirk of satisfaction crept onto his mouth as he pulled back just enough to look you in the eye. “I missed you.”

The sincerity of the moment cut through the heat just for a second before his lips were on yours again. This kiss felt deeper, more deliberate as his free hand skidded down your stomach before landing between your legs. You broke from the kiss with a shaky moan, head falling forward against the wall as he began smooth circles over your neglected clit. His lips trailed the crux of your jaw, down the back of your neck as his movements became rougher. He ignored the pain threatening his leg, breath heavy and uneven as he bit on the curve of your shoulder, his own wanton moans vibrating off your skin.

You could feel your orgasm creeping in, white hot and consuming in the pit of your stomach. The dual sensation of his hips grinding against yours and the quick motions of his wrist between your thighs had your vision blurring at the edges. As if he sensed it, he adjusted his angle, moving deeper and more intentional. His focus was now singular, chasing every reaction you gave him, determined to push you to your limits.

Your body contorted into his, a ragged cry escaping you as the tension coil in you tightened. He grunted lowly against your shoulder, his own voice taking on a wobble as his own orgasm loomed not far behind. 

“Let go for me”

It was all you needed to tip over the edge, toes curling and your body going rigid in his grasp as pleasure rolled over you in unrelenting waves. The sounds spilling from your lips were downright shameless, and you were certain your neighbors would despise you for it.

Viktor wasn't far behind, his rhythm faltering as he chased his release. His hips stuttered against yours, a broken groan tearing from his throat as he came, your body greedily pulling him deeper and milking him for every last bit. His body slumped against yours, both of you trembling, a tangle of shaky limbs held upright only by the support of the wall.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing before Viktor straightened up, gently slipping out of you. The absence of his touch left a lingering ache, but as you turned to face him, the sight of his disheveled hair, the sheen of sweat on his skin, and the smirk tugging at his lips had you smiling—soft, dazed, completely spent.

You laughed softly, a breathless sound, leaning against the wall for support. He chuckled in return, winded but fond, before stepping closer to cup your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze softening as he drew you into another kiss.

This one was different. Slower. Softer. As always. That was the first time you let him stay the night.

The next morning, you woke to a tangle of sheets and the soreness of a night well-spent. Viktor was still sleeping soundly beside you, his face half-buried in your comforter, dark lashes fanning against his cheek. He looked so peaceful that it made your chest ache. A sharp knock at the door pulled you from your leering. Groaning softly, you slipped out of bed, throwing on a robe and tying it hastily. The moment you swung the door open your heart nearly stopped.

“Morning,” Jayce greeted brightly, a fast-food bag in hand. Before you could say a word, he stepped inside as if he owned the place. “Hope you don’t mind me dropping by. Thought I’d bring you breakfast.”

Your stomach flipped in panic as you quickly moved to block his path, though he was already surveying the room with his usual casual ease.

“Jayce, uh, now’s not really—”

He stopped mid-step, his brow furrowing as his gaze landed on the floor. His lips parted slightly, confusion flickering over his features.

“Is that… Viktor’s cane?”

©lilsworks 2024

Taglist: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @thatlittlered @itsjustbell @sseleniaa @theepitomeofswag @jupiteress @rattini @milwaukeeslush @catedunlapgodu @worldseer

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

You Smell Like Sweat And Disrespect

JJ Maybank x Strawberry

synopsis: jj plays way too much

cw: none that i can think of lmk!

based on this ask!

a/n: moony proofread because she loves me @starfxkrinc

divider by her too because she loved me @starfxkrinc

The mirror’s fogged at the edges from her curling iron.

Her gloss is perfect, lashes thick and fluttery. Edges slicked down with precision. There’s glitter on her chest and cocoa butter behind her ears.

She smells like pink like fruit and lotion and softness and gloss. Strawberry shampoo, vanilla cream deodorant, sweet floral perfume she paid too much for.

And behind her?

JJ.

Still shirtless. Still barefoot. Still smelling like sweat, blunt smoke, and outside.

“JJ.”

He doesn’t answer.

He’s laid across her white comforter, ass up, mouth full of chips, watching her get dressed like he’s not the reason they’re gonna be late.

“JJ.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Did you shower like I told you to?”

A long pause. He crunches.

“…Kinda.”

She turns around real slow.

“Kinda? Kinda?? Do I kinda let you in this pussy, JJ?”

“Damn, okay.” He sits up, chip bag falling to the floor. “I rinsed off. I used your lil soap. The pink one.”

She stalks over, sniffing him like a dog, pretty nose wrinkling in disgust. He grins like he’s proud of himself.

“You smell like pinecones, feet, and disrespect. Get your swamp-ass in my shower before I call John B to pick me up instead.”

JJ tilts his head.

“Oh, so John B your little backup now? That why he been looking at me crazy lately? He tryna imagine me moanin’ his name instead?”

She rolls her eyes so hard they almost pop out her head.

“Ain’t nobody imagining your moany ass. You sound like a dog getting neutered when I ride your face.”

He grins wider.

“And you sound like a bitch in heat.”

He grabs her by the hips, pulls her close.

Stands up, nose brushing hers.

“You yellin’ right now, but I bet if I suck on that clit you’d be stuttering like Pope in a police station.”

She shoves him back. He stumbles, laughing.

“Get in the shower. And scrub. Balls to toes. I want you smelling like strawberries and shame.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sings, halfway undressed already.

But before he can make it to the bathroom, she calls out:

“And use the good shampoo this time. Don’t be washing your dick with my leave-in again, I’m serious.”

“That was one time.”

“Two times. And don’t lie, I found pube glitter in my diffuser.”

JJ winks and disappears into the bathroom.

She’s halfway through blending her blush when she hears him yelling over the water.

“BABY. WHICH ONE’S THE CONDITIONER AGAIN?”

She yells back without missing a beat:

“THE ONE THAT SAYS CONDITIONER, JJ. YOU KNOW HOW TO READ.”

Ten minutes later, he strolls out. Towel low on his hips. Wet hair pushed back. Skin flushed and glistening. And he smells…

perfect.

“You smell like a cupcake,” she mumbles.

“I smell like your man,” he says, stepping behind her again.

She’s lining her lips with slow, careful strokes. JJ bends over, mouth pressed to the back of her neck.

“You gon’ let me taste it now?”

“No. We’re already late.”

“We could be later.”

“JJ—”

He drops to his knees behind her vanity stool, big hands sliding up her thighs, under that tiny skirt she wore just to look cute and cause problems. She clenches up immediately, thighs trying to snap closed.

“You playin’.”

“I ain’t.”

“You smell good as hell. Let me say thank you.”

She’s trying to act annoyed, gloss still uncapped in one hand, but when his tongue slips beneath the lace of her panties.

Her hips jerk.

Gloss hits the floor.

She grips the vanity edge so hard her rings leave dents.

“You’re gonna ruin my makeup, JJ.”

“Then you’ll look like you got fucked.”

“Bitch—”

Her curse melts into a gasp as he licks her slow. Deliberate. Like he got all the time in the world and no party to be at. His tongue moves soft, slow, lazy, like he’s just warming up. Like he wants to make her beg.

“Say thank you,” he whispers.

“You say thank you,” she snaps back, breathless.

“I’m the one letting you suck pussy in my vanity chair.”

He moans right against her clit.

“Thank you,” he mumbles. “God, thank you. You taste like heaven. Like strawberry sin.”

And now she’s shaking.

She kicks him off with one foot not even really trying.

“Get dressed. Before I sit on your face and miss this whole damn party.”

JJ stands, mouth glossy with her. Smirks. Wipes his face with the towel like it’s no big deal.

“You gon’ let me use your lotion too?”

“Use it again without asking and I’ll replace it with Nair.”

“Kinky.”

[overflowingteacupoflove]

strawberry!reader- Party 4 U by Charlie xcx, Kook princess, lives in the biggest house on Figure 8, gold jewelry, pink mini dresses, lacey tank tops, picnics, white roses, Chanel, collection of stones, prissy, a bit of a brat, Alfredo, parties, Shea butter scents.

gardener!pope- Waiting For My Ruca by Sublime, orange scents, works on the grounds of strawberry's house, keeps to himself, makes a really good pasta salad, carhart jeans, doesnt let much get under his skin.

[amourluvie]

periods were not that unknown to MALLEUS ─ since female faes had the burden to go through it too.

however. . . When he saw you clutching your stomach due to painful cramps─during your daily strolls with him that included admiring the various constellations in the onyx sky, aswell as the glimmering stars─he felt something in him awaken. Whether it was the inherited protectiveness from his draconian lineage or straight up worry─with even little hints of fear that gnawed at him. it probably was a mix of both.

he immediately asked you if you were okay─( although he already knew that you,were very much not. He just wanted a confirmation.)

to which you replied back saying "I am just on my period and I feel like the cramps are worser this time. but mal─please do not worry about me─"

do not? worry? about you? What kind of lover will he be if he doesn't? He narrowed his eyes at your response and wasted no time in swooping you off your feet─and then carrying you in bridal style. You were absolutely speechless at this sudden act─flustered even.

He then proceeded to take you to ramshackle─laying you down on your bed before you could even say something.

"rest." he commanded─although his tone was laced with just pure concern. "I will get all the necessities tomorrow."

"necessities?" you asked.

"pads, tampons, a bunch of sweet treats..such as ice cream─hmm.." he answered while reminiscing about the time you said you liked some type of ice cream.

"love? you said you liked that one ice cream brand─I suppose a week ago? the one with the rabbit logo?" he assumed, gazing lovingly at you.

"yeah! That one is really good! It's probably one of my favourites now─ever since I got here." you uttered─getting excited for once ever since you had to bear the torture of having your period.

"I will get it just for you. just can you tell me how many tubs you want my dear?"

"two will be good!"

"got it. anything for my dearest child of man."

[suguruverse]

idk if anyone has ever talked about this but katsuki REFUSES to buy you flowers from the grocery store. like will not even look at it and will steer you away if he even catches you looking at it.

he genuinely looks at you crazy when you ask him why he’s avoiding the huge display of flowers because he cannot fathom why you would want “those cheap ugly shits” over a bouquet from the florist filled with your favourite flowers.

you pout when he drags you out the grocery store and back home only to wake up the next morning to a fresh bouquet on your bedside table with an obnoxiously large orange ribbon that screams katsuki name and a homemade breakfast from yours truly <3333

[revivedredeemermareu]

Turns the angst meter to 100

...

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Breaking News!

Y/N Cookie was found crumbling at a near crumbled state but still alive after their recent expedition with Pure Vanilla Cookie, Gingerbrave & his friends at Beast-Yeast. They're taken to a hospital to treat their fatal wounds after that experience. More at Earthbread 11.

[goaskangel]

older boyfriend!simon headcannons (slightly toxic)

older boyfriend!simon expects you to open the door for him every friday night. he comes with flowers of course, your preferred candy of the week too. he’ll scruff off his work shoes and hug you with one arm as he kisses the top of your head.

older boyfriend!simon who’s tired as hell after a long week and doesn’t say anything until he’s taken his freezing fucking showers in your bathroom. washing off grime from the earlier work day so he can get back to you all clean and tidy. he likes using some of your fancy scrubs so he can get a little feel of what it’s like to be all soft and smooth like you. especially likes how the fruity scent lingers. 

he’ll yawn as he gets back to you at the couch, tossing the towel on the back before melting right onto you. you wince at his damp skin and slowly warm up to him, stroking his wet blonde hair, twirling at the greys of his roots. he’ll groan at the shitty reality tv and turn his head to the other side, closing his eyes and yawning away to his sleep. 

older boyfriend!simon doesn’t realize how deep of a sleeper he is because how on earth did you get up with his heavy body laying atop yours on the couch without him getting up? he scratches his head and rubs the sleep off his eyes as the morning sun warms his face. he gets up to stretch and finds you scrubbing away at his printed mask at the kitchen sink. walking behind you, he slips his hands under your thin shirt and rests them on the curve of your hips. he squeezes the fat and drops his face to kiss and lick at your neck. sloppy and sleepy pecks below your ear. 

you ring his mask out, “yeah, good morning to you too, si.” 

he ignores your sarcasm and slides his hands on yours, “reckon it’s time for somethin’ to eat, yeah? know a spot not to fa’h that you’ll adore.” you comply. you’ve had no groceries and didn’t wanna cook something anyway, plus you know he wouldn’t let you pay for anything. 

older boyfriend!simon makes you put something more decent on. he got such a pretty little thing, he can’t just show her off so easily! you both compromise on his hoodie (it’s been at your pace for so long that it’s practically shrunken down to your size) and shorts. he’ll stand behind you to the right with his arm around you on the sidewalk (he follows the sidewalk rule without even knowing it, he thought it was just basically common sense.) 

he knows the staff and orders his usual, suggesting you try it. the waitress there calls you both darlin and love, squeezes her server book when simon holds your hand across the table a little too tight. he likes having you beside him but sometimes you’ll sit across, he likes the way you chub your mouth full when you’re hungry, grinning at the taste. he’ll make you try something new off his plate, feeding you with his fork and wiping a crumb off your lower lip as you nod with a oh yeah that’s good. 

he knows not to make a scene over paying the bill, it’s his natural language of care/ the last time you tried letting him know you could also pay it, he just gave you this dirty look. god forbid you feel a little guilty because he’ll stop you with a “don’t even start, love.” 

older boyfriend!simon wouldn’t call himself toxic, he wouldn’t call himself anything. so what if he likes the fact you’re not too close with anyone? if you’ve only got a few girlfriends to hang out with, he gets all the precious time with you in the end. he likes how you’re always free, anytime he calls you’re already out the door. it’s either you're bored at home or you’re finishing up your shift, he’ll pick you up and treat you. 

maybe you rely on him a little too much. simon never forgets his kiss before showering so what the hell could you have done to upset him? he’ll leave knick knacks like candy or a book you’ll like just around instead of handing it to you to see your reaction, does he just not care anymore? it’s just his way of being petty, even at his old age. 

he’s not big on solo trips. what if something happens? you’re all he’s got and so what if something goes wrong, the only close person you’ve got around is him. it wouldn’t look too good if the police had to ask a man twice her age where his lady went, now is it? it’s better if he looks after you. 

older boyfriend!simon is big on routine, he wouldn’t call it controlling. it’s just unspoken: don’t cancel friday night, nothing too scandalous unless he picks it, and definitely no declining his calls. its good for both of you, he swears it. the weekend’s where you both can wind down, he can’t have certain men playing cheap games around you, and he doesn’t see a reason you can’t accept his calls. he knows your routine and he barely does anyway. 

you like his little rules too. you don’t admit it but his guidance makes you wet like nothing else. he can tell—he can always tell. when he’s got his fingertips grazing your mound before sliding his hand under your panties, the way your cunt drools when he talks about why he doesn’t do this too often, “don’t wan’ you gettin’ too used to it, birdie. i know you can only take so much.” his gruff words make you twitch and you swear if he went on a little longer, you’d come. 

it’s anything he says mixed with the accent, if public humiliation weren’t a thing, you’d drop your panties any time he’d try to correct you. 

when you confront him about not kissing you, not touching you like he normally does, that you'd rather have him raise his voice at you, he tells you, “ain’t raisin’ my voice. you’ll know when i’m bitter, love.” his arms crossed with a smile tugging a little at his lips–what were you even upset about?

or when it’s late at night and he’s damn tired but you can’t help yourself. you’re rubbing up on him like a minx, he sighs and slides his hand to your ass, “don’t start thinkin’ you can get away with that pout every time. s’gonna stop workin’ one of these days.” you know it won’t. 

older boyfriend!simon makes sure to take care of you so you can take care of him. The best way to make sure he stays steady is to make you feel safe enough to soften. he despises when you ask for his help, he thinks of it more as since you look after everyone else so much, thought it was my turn, yeah? more like his purpose to have this quiet authority over you. 

masterlist

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

Strawberry Sweet

── Azriel x Fem!Witch/Fae Hybrid Reader

also featuring platonic best friend! cassian x reader, and platonic best friend! rhysand x reader

I ~ INTRODUCTIONS ── PART TWO ── TABLE OF CONTENTS

based on [THESE] lyrics

obviously not book canon. references to battles that didn’t happen in the books, ooc inner circle, etc… 🤷🏻‍♀️ no use of y/n but i do use she / her. no descriptions other than reader being shorter than all 3 bat boys. reader is also able to winnow.

When you first met Azriel, you were sure he hated you.

With the rest of the inner circle, it had been easy. You met the High Lord first after saving his life, and you remembered the day like it happened yesterday.

Rhysand had taken to the skies one night, flying over Velaris and looking down at everything below. An ambush on Day Court had all the high lords on edge, with the message that the attackers weren’t finished being loud and clear. He knew it was bad when Helion reached out personally.

When he was attacked, it was 5 against 1. He ended up plummeting nearly 1,000 feet. As luck would have it, you were just returning home from a very late night trip to the markets.

Ever the quick thinker, you snapped your fingers, and all of your purchased goods floated into your home and all put themselves in their proper place. Then you turned your attention to the man falling from the sky. You held out a hand, and a blue light so dark that they almost resembled shadows, flowed from your palm and slowed the man’s descent just before he hit the ground.

You used your other hand to turn you both invisible until you were able to get him into your home.

To keep a long story short, because that was a tale for another time, it took a lot longer to heal him than you thought. You don’t know how much time passed, all you know is that it was completely dark outside when he fell but when you finished, you could see the sun was about to rise.

Rhysand woke up not long after you finished healing his wings.

You anticipated the first question he asked, so you beat him to it. Giving him a brief version, you explained that you were half witch, half fae. You didn’t explain your family history, or how you came to live alone. There was a sense of relief when he didn’t ask more questions, though you could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to.

“Not that I don’t love hosting you, but shouldn’t you be going? I’d imagine a lot of people are worried about you.”

You felt him trying to get into your mind, and wished you could’ve taken a picture of his face when you told him that wouldn’t be possible unless you allowed it. Centuries of practice ensured that even the strongest mind reader wouldn’t be able to access your thoughts so easily.

When he finally felt strong enough to stand, you followed closely behind him as he headed to the door.

“I’m not officially a healer, obviously, but if you ever need help, you may return. I only ask that you don’t tell anyone that I’m here. If word gets to the wrong person—”

“I won’t tell a soul, you have my word. You’ve saved my life, and I owe you a debt far greater than anything I could pay you.”

You shook your head and insisted you didn’t need, or want, money.

“Well if there’s ever anything you need, no matter how big the request, please come find me.”

“Thank you, High Lord. I will keep that in mind.”

He managed a small smile. “You used magic to stitch part of my wings back together, please, at least call me Rhys. Or Rhysand if it makes you more comfortable.”

You nodded and after he thanked you again for saving his life, and after you said you did it because you wanted to help and not because you wanted something, he took to the skies. You wondered if you’d ever see him again.

But there was still a war going on, and you shouldn’t have been that surprised when he returned a few weeks later. What did surprise you, and even made you a little angry, was that he had not 1, but 2 people with him. Not living under a rock, you recognized them right away. And this was how you ended up meeting Cassian and Nesta.

That anger disappeared when you saw just how injured Cassian was. He could barely stand, even Nesta was having to help keep him upright.

Turning around, you went back into your home and snapped your fingers. Seconds later, everything on your dining table lay in neat piles on the floor. You were thankful that you’d opted for a larger table, and don’t think he would’ve fit on your bed.

You got to work healing him the moment Rhys set him down on the table. Although you worked fast in an attempt to ease his pain, it was clear he was still in a lot of it.

“I need to put him to sleep. He has broken bones and I promise none of you want him awake when I put them back in place.” You looked up at Nesta then, and for the first time since entering your home, her gaze left her mates, and she looked at you.

Unable to speak, she only nodded, silently giving you permission. He was out not long after that, and you worked for another 2 hours until you were satisfied that he’d be alright.

Nesta finally spoke up then, asking if you were going to wake him up. You explained that while putting him to sleep was fairly easy, you didn’t think it was the best idea to wake him up. That required going deep into his mind and wandering around until you found the part of it where he was waiting. That act in itself would give you access to every thought and memory that Cassian has ever had, and you didn’t like to do that to anyone without their explicit permission.

After explaining that it wouldn’t be long before he woke up on his own, as you redid one of Cassian’s bandages, you noticed Nesta give Rhys a look. He only shook his head and whispered that he trusted you.

You were right as you knew you would be, and it was just 10 minutes later that the general of the Night Court was opening his eyes and sitting up.

“Why… am I on a table??”

Nesta hated showing any sign of being vulnerable, so none were more shocked than Rhys and Cassian when she walked over to you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly. “I don’t know how we can repay you.”

You smiled when the 2 of you stepped apart. “No payment is needed, or wanted. I promise—” It felt like all the air left your body when Cassian took his turn with a hug, only he lifted you off of the ground and seemed to be trying to squeeze the life out of you.

“Cass, I happen to like her and would appreciate you not killing her.”

“Sorry! Just, you know, thanks for saving my life.“

After they left , all repeatedly thanking you on their way out, you wondered if what just happened was some sort of fever dream.

Over the next few months, the 3 would occasionally pop in, but all for different reasons. Rhys was still fascinated by you being half witch, half fae. All he wanted to do was sit and ask questions, and he’d hang on to every word you spoke as you answered. Cassian, who insisted you call him Cass, did come to you for healing. But for ‘injuries’ he very much could’ve handled on his own. He healed faster than a normal human, but you lost count of the amount of times you opened your door, or he opened it and barged in, telling you about a paper cut or the smallest bruise.

The first time Nesta came to visit, and you greeted her with “Lady Nesta”, you almost laughed at the daggers she sent your way. You quickly learned it was just Nesta, or Nes. During her second visit, the subject of fighting somehow came up. You mentioned your basic knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, but that you wished you were more advanced, or at least knew how to fight with a weapon. Ever since then, she’d come to visit at least once a week to try and convince you to join her on training with the Valkyries.

“I don’t know that I’d actually be any good,” you admitted, adding on that you were so used to fighting with your powers that you genuinely couldn’t remember what it was like to do so without them.

A month of pestering persuading had you finally agreeing to sit in on a training session with the Valkyries. And that was how you came to meet Azriel.

The following day, Nesta showed up at your front door bright and early. Well not bright, since the sun had yet to even rise, but with how you felt as you slowly got dressed, you knew it was definitely early. She assured you that Valkyries didn’t always train so early, but she wanted to get some one-on-one training with you.

After a brief discussion in which she promises you’ll end up having fun, you ask if all of her family will be training. She says no, with the Valkyries it’s usually only her and Cass. Rhys occasionally pops his head in to observe, but has been busy with everything going on so not so much lately.

“Oh I forgot you haven’t met everyone yet. Feyre, my sister and Rhys’ mate, prefers to train solo so you probably won’t see her today. Then there’s Azriel, he used to train with us a lot, well help train the women, but Rhys has been sending him out a lot lately. What with everyone being on edge from the attacks, we’re all eager to find out who’s behind it all.”

She explains where to go and you take her hand, winnowing you both to the training grounds.

“There she is!” You jump a little at Cass’ voice. He’s all the way on the other side of the room, but so loud that it’s as if he’s right next to you. He puts down a stack of papers and quickly makes his way over to you and Nesta. “You’re just in time, look.” He holds up his hand, showing you the tiniest of paper cuts on his left index finger.

You can’t help but laugh as you take his hand in yours and use your powers to close the cut.

Nesta shakes her head. “For a warrior, you sure are a big baby.” She turns to you, “you can just tell him to suck it up next time.”

Cass gasps, putting his hands on his face. “She’d never do that! At least she cares about me.”

“Do I really though?” You tilt you head.

“Hey! Just for that I’m not going easy on you today.”

“Wait you’re training me?”

“I’m going to take that as wait really! Wow I’m so lucky Cassian the general of the Night Court is training me. Now chop chop, let’s go!” He gently pushes you towards one of the larger mats on the ground.

You turn back to Nesta, who only shrugs and mouths good luck, before joining the other women.

Much like when you were focused on healing Rhys and Cass, time goes by in a blur. Before you know it, you’ve managed to knock Cass onto his back for the third time. You look at a clock nearby and find that nearly 2 hours have gone by.

“Woo!” The 2 of you stop and turn towards the door and see Feyre leaning against the door frame, clapping as she calls out your name and shouts his congratulations.

Cass rolls his eyes, but smiles when you hold out a hand to help him to his feet. “You kicked my ass today, I’d be a little upset if I wasn’t so impressed.”

When you use your powers to immediately dry all of your sweat, you’re happy you get to use your powers for more mundane things like this.

“Ahem!”

Now it’s you turn to roll your eyes. Still, you face one of your hands towards Cass, and he’s also dry just a few seconds later.

“Thank you,” he gives a dramatic bow before telling you all he’s going to go shower.

Before you can ask why he made you do that if he was just planning to shower anyway, Feyre finally approaches you and Nesta. You become aware of how affectionate the inner circle can be, when Feyre pulls you in for a hug, not saying anything for a moment.

“You saved Rhys, I owe you everything. Thank you,” she whispers.

“I promise, you don’t owe me a thing,” you shake your head. “I’m just happy he ended up falling outside of my home. If it had been anywhere else I wouldn’t have seen it, or I wouldn’t have been able to slow his fall.”

Cass pops his head back in the room. “Anyone know if Az is coming by to train later? I couldn’t get a hold of him earlier.”

Feyre nods, “he got back less than an hour ago, I think he told Rhys he’d be by here at some point. Oh, never mind.”

The last part of her sentence comes when she looks toward the door, this time towards the ground. You watch as what looks like a series of small clouds slowly makes their way towards you. Upon closer inspection, you realize they’re shadows.

“Azriel is a shadowsinger, right?” When Nesta nods, you continue. “Do they often travel like this without him?”

“No,” Feyre watches them get closer. “I mean they can if he sends them somewhere but I don’t see why he’d send them here when he knows it’s only us…”

When the shadows finally reach you, they move faster as if they’re excited. One makes its way to the top of your head, swirling around your face. It’s a cool, almost ticklish sensation. Another weaves its way around your legs, while the last one circles your hands, as if it can sense the power you hold.

Healer.

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean I guess technically yes, among other things. But I’m still working on my healing abilities so—” You look up to find Nesta, Feyre, and Cass all staring at you. “What?”

Cass just stares at you, now with his mouth open in shock.

“We didn’t say anything…”

“Wait did — were you talking to the shadows??”

Now you were confused. “Yes… it asked, well it said I was a healer and I was just explaining—”

“You can understand them?!”

“I… they don’t speak to all of you?” You watched in amazement as the shadows continued to explore you.

Cass finally breaks his silence. “No. We’ve never heard them say anything. How the hell…”

Magic. Friend.

You smile. Holding your hands out and palms facing up, you produce 2 dark blue clouds a lot similar in appearance to the shadows. They swarm your clouds, but return to you once they realize that they’re not real shadows.

Feyre observes this, a small smile on her face. “Interesting.”

All at once, 2 of the 3 shadows stop their movements, then quickly make their way back out of the room. A minute later, the shadowsinger himself enters the room.

“Dude!” Cass began to make his way towards his brother, but Nesta elbows him in the ribs as she grabs his arm to keep him in place.

When Azriel looks at you, he freezes. He can only stand and watch as the shadow that remained in the room continues to move between your hands and your head. But when you look up at him, your first thought is that you’ve somehow offended him with your actions, so you drop your hands and step back, closer to Nesta.

The lone shadow finally returns to Azriel, hovering around his right ear. You wish you could hear what it’s telling him.

You’re further embarrassed when all Azriel does is quickly look away from you before he asks Cass to speak to him.

Once the 2 men are out of the room, you voice your concerns out loud. “I should apologize when Azriel comes back in.”

Nesta looks at you, clearly confused. “What, why would you apologize? You haven’t done anything.”

“I just… I don’t think he liked that his shadows were paying so much attention to me. I don’t know if he heard me speaking to one but I don’t want to offend him or cause any trouble.”

Feyre’s expression softened. She replaced Nesta at your side, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “That’s just Azriel, at least with someone he isn’t familiar with yet. It’s not often we bring anyone new around. He just needs time.”

You didn’t stay much longer after that, chatting to the 2 Archeron sisters for only a few more minutes before making an excuse to leave. It was obvious why you were in such a rush, but you were grateful that neither woman tried to persuade you to stay.

When you finally winnowed back to your home, you forced yourself to take a shower before collapsing onto your bed. Maybe a nap was what you needed.

You couldn’t help but think about Azriel. Everyone else was quick to warm up to you, and you still thought that you offended him by how you interacted with his shadows.

As you lay there and waited for sleep to pull you under, you wondered if he’d end up hating you.

what a shitty place to end it hahdjdnsdkc BUT part 2 picks up right where this leaves off! if i kept going we’d end the chapter at like 6k which is too long for my liking.

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[sturnslutz]

berry goes to matt's house for a little "tutoring session."

warnings: weed smoking, shotgunning, making out, grinding/dry humping, no actual p in v, basically sub matt, use of “mama”

the drive to matt's house didn't take very long. he insisted earlier in class that he could come pick you up in his brand new family van they recently got, but you denied politely as you had to do a couple errands for your aunt before seeing matt.

a couple textbooks and your laptop filled your passenger seat alongside your purse and whatever you needed. you didn't know if matt smoked or not, chris did, but you didn't really expect matt to. you brought a couple blunts just in case.

you sent matt a small message stating you got to his house as you knocked the door three times softly. he hearted it before shortly arriving after to the door. his face flushed a soft red as he smiled at you softly, muttering a small "hi."

"hey, matt. just you home?"

matt opened the door wider for you to come in, which you did. looking around, it looked a lot more normal then your house did which was filled with bright colors and aesthetics that you and your aunt love.

"yeah, my parents are at work and chris and nick are out somewhere, i'on really know." he said softly as he shut the door. he trailed behind you as you started exploring and walking around, which he made no effort to stop you, but was rather intrigued.

"sorry it's not much. our house is kinda boring." he said as he scratched the back of his neck, a bit worried you were going to judge him. did he really think you were like that? he couldn't help himself but inhale the trail of strawberry perfume filling the air around the both of you.

you stopped your movements abruptly, which almost made matt bump into you. "matt, do you think i'm a horrible person or something? i love your house, no matter what. i'm actually quite fascinated with it. i've never been in a house which wasn't maximalist to the max, or filled with a range of every color. i like this simple look."

he searched your face for any hint you were lying, but your big eyes just looked up at him with the most genuine honesty. he smiled softly, looking away and running a hand through his hair. "thank you. i really appreciate it. do you wanna head up to my room now? i think you'll like it a lot."

you face brightened even more at the thought, eliciting a big smile across your face. "yes, of course! lead the way.” he nodded and turned, beginning to walk to the staircase as you followed after him.

his room was the complete opposite of what you thought it was. it was filled to the brim with comic posters, action figures, legos of every universe, so many stuffed animals, and everything matt couldn't express in words, but rather filled his thoughts.

"sorry, it's a lot. it's really nerdy too." he said softly, his voice shaking a bit. you looked around the room in awe, genuinely surprised he's embarrassed by this. you would love to have a room like this.

"it's not, at all. i actually love it so much. its so you. i like being able to see what you're interests are." he smiled again softly, his blue eyes scrunching up in his glasses as he ran a hand through his hair, again.

"thank you, berry. i really appreciate that. so, do you wanna start studying?" he sits down on his bed, sitting in a criss-cross position as he looked up at you through those damn glasses that you adored. he looked so hot like this.

"yep. i brought some papers i need to finish." you sat down, tossing your shoes off and sitting in the same position as him, but across him as you grabbed your bag, dumping it. his eyes skimmed through the papers, but noticed something he didn't expect.

two blunts sitting right next to each other.

you saw him look at them, and you chuckled softly. "didn't know if you smoked or not, but they help me relax and study better. thought i could smoke one here, if you're cool with it."

he looked up at you again, nodding a bit. "y-yeah sure, i don't mind. do you think it'll make my room smell?" he asked a bit nervously. his parents knew that chris smoked to help with his adhd, but he didn't want them to think he did it also.

you nodded, picking them up and looking for the lighter through your papers. "yeah, probably because it's a blunt and not a cart, those don't smell as much. but don't worry i got some perfume that makes the weed smell basically disappear."

his face seemed to understand but also didn't. "a cart- whats that?"

you laughed a bit again, rubbing his knee. "nothing you need to worry about." he nodded again, now directing his attention to a couple of your papers, trying to understand what he actually needed to help you on.

what he didn't notice though, was you holding one of the blunts up to your mouth and lighting it, and when he did, it was when you blew the smoke towards him causing him to cough a bit. "shit- sorry baby. are you okay?" he nodded, his coughing wearing down. what caught him again off guard was the name you called him. baby.

"yeah, i'm okay." you took another hit, now redirecting it to the door area before looking down at the papers. he seemed to notice your calmer demeanor and wondered if the weed actually did make you focus better.

he didn't notice himself staring at the blunt that was fiddling in between your fingers, but you did. "wanna hit?" his attention came back to you as his eyes opened a bit wide. "what? no-no. well maybe? i don't know how to!" he panicked a bit, making you laugh.

"you don't have to hit it. i'll help. you ever heard of shotgunning?" you take another hit, a smaller one now to help preserve it. "like the chugging beer thing?"

"well, yes. that's also shotgunning, but there's another kind. it's where i take a hit, but blow it into your mouth then you inhale and let it out. it'll get you high also."

knowledge of smoking was not something matt ever thought he would be learning, but he wasn't really complaining.

"oh-okay. yeah, we can do it." he said, waiting for the rest of your instruction. you smiled, moving the papers off the bed as you handed him the blunt to hold, so you wouldn't burn yourself. you sat back up right, taking the blunt back into your hand.

"okay, just relax, lemme do what i need to do. also, can i straddle you? it helps me actually do it right." he was taken aback a bit at the thought of you actually getting on top of him, but nodded. "y-yeah. sure. go ahead." he leaned back into the bed more as he stretched out his legs and you climbed on top of him, right above his cock.

he was praying that he wouldn't get a boner as he knew you would feel it, so tried to look elsewhere, now fairly interested in his poster of pokemon he got when he was 11.

you chuckled a bit, grabbing his face in your left hand, redirecting his face towards you. "it's not gonna work if you're not actually looking at me, matt." he muttered a small "sorry" as you lifted the blunt to your lips, taking a big hit before leaning down.

your lips touched his as he let out a soft gasp, allowing you to blow the smoke into his mouth. once you blew most of it in, you leaned back up, watching his face. "inhale, good, now exhale." he did exactly as you said, but letting out harsh coughs in result.

you smiled at him as he finally regained his breath, looking up at you. his face was flushed as a cherry, but he laughed a bit. "that was my first kiss." he softly admitted, but this time not taking his eyes off you.

"really? wanna have another?" you smirked as you leaned back down, putting the blunt back in between your lips as you let out a puff of smoke, filling the air once around you both again. you finally had finished it, burying it's end into the table next to his bed as he nodded.

you leaned back all the way down, reconnecting your lips with his. he was very patient with it and being gentle. he let his hands fall to your hips as the kisses deepened, a very noticeable poke in between your thighs now.

your tongue made it's way into his mouth, matt happily accepting it. for what was his first kiss, he sure was good at it. you couldn't help but notice the ache in between your thighs, right where matt was. you started absentmindedly grinding against him, causing matt to moan into your mouth as you smirked and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the both of you still. his flushed face and lopsided glasses made you even wetter than before.

"y'ever had a girl do this to you before, baby?" you tease him a bit, obviously knowing his answer. he shakes his head softly, burying his forehead in your neck. "n-no." "feel good, huh?" he whined softly as your hand reached to his head, gently pulling his hair. "mm-mhm."

"need words, matt." you tug a bit harder on his strands, causing a even louder whine to come from his throat. "yes, feels good." you nodded, grabbing his head out of your neck and softly pushing it back down on the pillow as you kiss him again.

this time, he was more hungry. his kisses were intense, like he was trying to kiss you deeper despite the minimal space between the both of you.

grinding against him was easy, his boner was very evident through his sweatpants, and you grinding against him gave him pleasure he never knew could erupt in him.

“fuck- mama, i’m close” he whimpered a bit softly as his hands gripped your ass through your pants, his hands roaming every inch he could. “yeah? cum for me, matt. i’m right here behind you.” you moaned softly as your head fell against his chest.

you pushed your hips closer to his, your movements minimal but rather putting pressure on his covered cock and your covered ache.

“fuck! berry!” he whimpered loudly as a warm spot filled the space between you two. you looked down as the dark grey spot grew larger with every twitch of his cock in his pants.

“i’m almost there, matty. can you cum again?” his fucked-out look without actually being in you, was so hot. you don’t know when, but he took off his glasses and set them aside, now allowing you to see his slightly red, dilated big blue eyes perfectly.

you don’t know if it’s the high, but just looking at him made you cum faster against him than you expected. your orgasm came as a surprise for you, loud moans coming from your mouth as your head falls against his chest.

he came for the 2nd time right after. moans and strangled whimpers fall from his mouth, filling the room with even more pretty sounds. as you both caught your breath, you rested against his chest, as his fingers played with your hair a bit.

your clothes sticking to you because of the sweat made you ick and he could tell you felt like this from your movements, almost trying to take it off.

“do you want me to get you some new clothes? i need to change anyways.” he whispers to you softly. a nod comes from you as you roll off him, flopping to the other side. his pants had a very evident dark grey area from the combination of your liquids flowing through your clothing.

a small chuckle falls from him as he looks down. he stands up, but his legs are wobbly, causing him to fall back on the bed. “what the hell?” he mutters a bit as his legs become a bit tingly.

“just relax a bit more, this was probably the first orgasm you had that actually made your body feel different, right?” you whisper a bit as you rub his arm a bit.

he hums a bit and nods, taking your advice. once he finally felt like he could stand properly, he walked carefully to his dresser. he pulled out 2 of his shirts, and 2 new pairs of sweats, and 2 new pairs of boxers.

“i don’t have any underwear so are boxers okay?” he walks over and hands the clothing to you as you hand him his glasses, immediately bringing back his vision.

“yeah, thank you matt.” he nods a bit as he walks out of his room, changing in the bathroom. you stood up and changed into his slightly oversized clothing, but extremely comfortable.

he knocks a couple times against the door as you allow him to come in. you were already laying back down in his bed, and his heart swoons seeing you in his clothing. he lays down next to you, fiddling with his fingers a bit.

“do you want to study a bit more?” he asks randomly, causing you to laugh loudly.

“didn’t we learn enough? we’ll just do it later.” he nods, understanding. both of your thoughts are interrupted at the sound of the front door opening, and chris and nick’s voices flowing through the house.

matt looks at you with worry in his eyes, but you rub his arm, helping him relax. “don’t worry, just relax. can i stay over? it’ll help me give them a better reasoning as to why im in your clothes.”

he nods immediately. “sure. of course. i’m sure my parents won’t mind. what about yours?”

“nah, my aunt won’t care. i live with her right now. sometimes i go to my parents’ house in upstate.” you explain to him as a knock comes through the door. “hey matt? you home, man?”

chris’s voice is heard as matt stiffens up once again. “just chill.” he lets out a breath as he talks. “yeah, i’m here.” and that lets chris in. his eyes immediately fall to matt, but then look to you as he gasps a bit.

“matt’s here, and berry’s here… in matt’s room? what the hell…?” it was clear chris was a bit high just like you and matt. the scent of weed also hits chris’s nose as he lets out another question. “were you guys smoking?”

“hey, chris. i came because he was tutoring me, and i smoked a bit because you know how it helps me study better. it’s getting late so matt told me i can stay here, and he allowed me to be in his clothes.”

chris nods slowly, but seemingly understands. “ight. mom and dad are staying at aunt cathy’s house tonight, so it’s just the 4 of us tonight, okay?”

his sight goes between you and matt as both you and matt nod. “okay, i got another blunt for later if you and nick wanna smoke it with us.” chris nodded at you, glancing out matt’s window. “hell yeah, but when it gets a bit darker out. so like 10? it’s saturday tomorrow so we’re good.”

you look at matt for a confirmation to which he nods, once again. “yeah, okay.” he says softly. chris walks out, and you plop back down next to matt, rubbing his shoulder. “you okay?” he smiles and hums. “yeah, i’m good. that felt really good.”

“i’m glad. dry humping is good, but actual sex is amazing. we aren’t there yet though.” his eyes widen a bit at the thought of actually having sex, but relaxed a bit at your reassurance.

“mhm- okay.” you smile again, rubbing his cheek a bit. “let’s take a nap before you we have to spend the whole night with energetic nick and chris.”

he laughs, nodding. he dips his head into your neck, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you tight. he knew you two weren’t official and didn’t know if you’d actually ever be, but he knew he trusted you.

[fushiguro-megloomy]

strawberry wine

[part 2] pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader prompt: “if somebody were to kiss me, i’d want that person to be you” tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace wc: 4k notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re

You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleeting—nothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore they’d never go.

It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, weren’t you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated. 

But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Moving back to the city hadn’t been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breathe—endless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could. 

So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayce—your childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to be—packed between towering neighbors—but Jayce’s presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.

"You know," he said, half-lounging. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

You didn’t look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. “Who?”

“Viktor” 

You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. “Ah, yes. The famous business partner.”

Jayce’s grin didn’t falter, but there was something softer behind it now. “Yeah, something like that. But seriously, he’s a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.”

You didn’t reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. “mhm” you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. “If he’s anything like you, how bad can it be?”

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. His voice took on that soft  tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. “I’m serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think you’ll really hit it off.”

You didn’t look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. “Yeah? I’m sure it’ll happen, then.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like he’d just won some small but important battle. “You’ll see. I’m telling you—when you meet him, you’ll click. I know it.”

You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. “Fine. Fine. I’ll meet him. But don’t make a whole thing out of it.”

Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like he’d just been granted some unspoken permission. “No big deal, I swear. But you’ll see. You two are more alike than you think.”

-

When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night you’d half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep in—something about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.

“You deserve a good meal after tonight,” Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. “Thought you’d want to celebrate somewhere that doesn’t reek of overpriced wine and small talk.”

You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.

And then you heard it—the low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.

Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. “Oh, right,” he said, far too casually. “Viktor’s here.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. “You conveniently forgot to mention that part.”

“Come on,” he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. “It’s no big deal. Just dinner. You’ll like him, I promise.”

And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than you’d expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadn’t met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.

“Ah,” he said, his accent lilting and crisp, “so this is the infamous artist.”

You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear he’d orchestrated the whole thing. “You owe me for this,” you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.

Viktor’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. “And here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems we’re both victims of his enthusiasm.”

Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. “You’ll thank me later.”

The dinner was simple but undeniably good—Jayce’s doing, of course. The man couldn’t let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aroma—it was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you weren’t.

Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasn’t exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayce’s more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.

“You mean to tell me,” Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, “that Jayce still hasn’t learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?”

Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. “Excuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.”

“It was fine,” you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.

Viktor’s amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. “Oh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here I am. Invited to dinner. Again.”

Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.

Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.

Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.

He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though he’d long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadn’t thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.

“Ah,” Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. “Of course.”

You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. “Need a hand?”

He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. “If it’s not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...”

“Oh, for—” Jayce’s voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.

You sighed, setting down the napkins you’d been folding. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got it.”

But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.

You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. “You’re kidding.”

Viktor’s lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. “What?”

“You just—”

“What?” he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. “I’m handicapped.”

Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. “Viktor.”

“What?” Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. “I am!”

Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldn’t decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoon—again.

“Very generous,” Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. “Honestly, it’s quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.”

Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. “You’re both ridiculous.”

But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when he’d said you’d get along.

-

The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.

It had been weeks—maybe even a couple of months—since that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadn’t quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, you’d become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.

But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms you’d drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasn’t anything new—nothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.

There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.

The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they were—on the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasn’t him exactly, but it was.

To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it might’ve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.

You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? You’d never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadn’t known you were entertaining.

It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.

He mentioned a piece you’d shown him, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve been doing something different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s a change. It’s...” His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “...more. More than what you usually show.”

The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stir—something you couldn’t name, not yet. You didn’t think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.

It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktor—your friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for months—might be seeing you differently, too.

The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

-

Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. You’d ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldn’t resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. “There’s no way I’ll even get drunk off this,” he’d muttered with a dismissive wave.

An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both trying—and failing—to suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wine’s effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.

“I swear, every time,” you said, laughing quietly.

Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. “Some people just don’t know when to stop.”

You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. “Guess we let him sleep it off.”

“Let him have his beauty rest,” Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. “We can always finish it ourselves.”

So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting now—your thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.

The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.

By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldn’t help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didn’t seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.

“You know,” you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, “I don’t do this enough. I’m so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.”

Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. “Relaxing can be overrated,” he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than they’d been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

“Well, maybe for you,” you chuckled. “But, for me, it’s like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I don’t remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didn’t feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.”

“You eh–... don’t have to worry about that here,” Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost… charged.

You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurd—awkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldn’t focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldn’t seem to think straight anymore.

Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasn’t just the wine now—you could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.

“Sometimes… you get caught up in what you’re doing, and you forget about everything else,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. “I’ve been focused on my career and—god, I’ve probably been a little… I don’t know, closed off.” You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.

“I just—I haven’t thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I don’t know if I’m even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything I’m doing.” You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.

You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldn’t. It was like you were helpless.

“And, I mean, if anybody were to kiss me…” You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. “I would want that person to be you.”

The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.

When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.

You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between you—it all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop

You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messier– clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.

You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long. 

-

The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.

Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought you’d had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thing—something you could both quietly bury and move on from.

At least, that was the plan.

Until it happened again. And then again.

Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until you’re not sure if you’re going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. But here you are. And you don’t know how to stop.

©lilsworks 2024