#i love this idiot and there is NO FUCKING WAY i am leaving him behind

[mywritersmind]

SAVIOR - LN4

summary : When y/n’s absent neighbor shows up, causing her great annoyance with smoke and repetitive beeping, she marches over to tell the man off but is met with a handsome face and strong hands that are in distress.

listen up : no warnings!! lando’s hands>>

word count : 631

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The sound won’t fucking stop.

I hadn't been worried before, just sitting back with my ice cream and gossip girl, until I smelt the smoke.

I groan, yeah sure there may be a fire but nothing is more important than the thanksgiving episode! I pull in a baggy off the shoulder shirt to cover my bra and walk out into the hall.

I slam my knuckle against the door. Who the fuck bakes at this time of night? I knock again and within seconds I hear feet pattering against the floor before the door clicks open.

I don’t mean to look surprised.

But when a hot man opens the door when I was expecting an old rich guy with a mistress, I raise a brow, “I’m so sorry!” He says quickly. There are oven mitts on his hands and I almost laugh because he looks like a cartoon character in distress.

“Are you okay?”

He is not, indeed, okay. As his body turns, I realize his kitchen is filling with smoke and something is still beeping. “I am so sorry!” He repeats again as I walk in.

I open the windows first, idiot. Then while coughing, I fiddle with the oven to make it shut up. I hear him audibly sigh behind me.

“You’re saving me here.” his smooth accent cuts through the burning smell.

I stand, “From a fire, yeah. Don’t really want my apartment building to burn down.” I shrug and take the mits right off his hands, placing them on my own and opening the smoke filled compartment.

I swat the air and hurriedly take out the pan. When I place it down on the counter, I laugh.

“I’m not a good baker, I know!” He crosses his arms.

“Cupcakes?” I smile, the smoke slowly leaving through the windows, “You don’t seem like the type. Especially at half past one.”

He shrugs and I finally take him in, with dark curls and stunning eyes, he’s got a familiar face. He's in pajamas of sorts, with bright orange slippers.

“Couldn’t pick a dinner option honestly…” He glances at the burnt baked goods, “I really appreciate it… I’d offer you something but- I don’t want to poison you.”

I smile and he looks proud that he made me do anything that’s not coughing, “Not a problem.”

A second passes before he speaks up, “I haven’t seen you around.” He says as I take the mits from my hands.

“Probably because you’re never around…?” It’s true. I love living on this floor because my neighbor is barely ever in. It is a bit strange now that I think about it.

He laughs, “Right. My work, and all…” okay mafia boss energy. Though his kind face and wall decor tells me differently.

I nod awkwardly, “Well… if you don’t need any more saving, I'm gonna go.”

“Of course! Thanks again. And if you ever need anything I'm here- I mean… I do owe you now.” I hand him the mits and as he grabs it my eyes stray to his hands.

Christ he’s fit. How have I never seen him before?

I look away from the veins and smile politely, “See you around…” I don’t know his name.

“Lando.” He smiles and the way his eyes meet mine makes my knees go soft.

“Y/n.” He shakes my hand, quite sternly might I add.

“Well Y/n… pleasure having you in my apartment and saving us from an evacuation.” He opens the door for me.

“Stay safe, Lando.” he winks.

NOTE : don’t forget that my requests are open!!

[strawbvrriluv]

can u do a fic where reader goes on a road trip with the triplets and thier parents but there’s no room for reader in the car so she has to sit on matts lap and he gets turned on so they sneakily have sex

Road Trips … Am I right?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʀᴏᴀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀɴᴛꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴄᴜꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ (ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ)

꧁༺ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ༻꧂

Y/n POV

I heard a honk outside of my house as I walked out and saw the Sturniolo’s car. I waved and walked to behind the car opening the trunk and putting my luggage with everyone else’s.

I closed the door and opened the back seat to be greeting with the triplets in the back seat…

“Oh sorry I forgot to tell you our parents decided to come as well and we took one car. You have to sit on Matt’s lap if that’s okay?”

Nick my best friend told me smiling sheepishly as I furrowed my brows about to speak.

“It’s fine”

Matt said giving me a look of annoyance as I huffed and glared at Matt before smiling at Nick. I entered the car and sat down on Matt’s lap.

I gave a smile to Mr and Mrs Sturniolo, “So Nick tells us you want to get into vlogging and all that stuff they’re doing as well?”

Mr. Jimmy asked looking at me through the mirror as I nodded.

“Yeah, I have loved filming since I was younger and now that I’m an adult I want to explore different kinds of things. Of course, I still have my regular job.”

Mr.Jimmy nodded as Mrs.Marylou piped in.

“Should we get some snacks before we leave the area?”

Chris immediately nodded his head, “Yes we should”.

I smiled at Chris’s enthusiasm as Nick rolled his eyes at his younger brother. Matt on the other hand was dead silent. I mean it’s normal for him, but this was different. He was like a ghost.

“Matt you okay?”

Chris asked him as he sat in the middle seat.

“Yea. Just tired.”

He replied his hands moving onto my lap fidgeting with his rings as we hit a bump.

I kind of slammed down on his lap as he gasped a bit. I slid down a bit so I moved more onto his lap feeling something hard.

“Matt is your phone on your lap?”

I whispered looking back at him as his face got a shade of pink.

“That’s not my phone idiot”

He whispered back into my ear as the look of confusion on my face dropped into an embarrassed one.

“Oh”

Was all I said before turning back around and going onto my phone to play subway surfers to try and ignore Matt.

Matt sighed deeply into my shoulder as he grabbed my hips pulling them in closer to his own. I widened my eyes opening my messages and texting Matt.

Matt put his phone down as his hand slid onto my thigh squeezing it softly as he yawned.

“Yo Chris hand me the blanket I wanna get some sleep and Y/n’s practically freezing”

Matt lied yawning after the sentence again as Chris gave him a blanket. He put it on the both of us because it was the only way for him to also be covered.

As soon as it covered my body his hand rode down into my skirt and down to my panties. He pressed two fingers on my clit through the fabric as I pressed my thighs together.

His hand moved upwards and into my panties as his middle finger and ring finger slid in between my folds touching my now aching clit. He rubbed circles softly as he rested his head on my shoulder his body grinding into my softly.

Since we were in a moving car it wasn’t obvious what was going on. Thank god.

He picked up the speed of the rubbing as I leaned more into him trying everything to not make a sound.

“Fuck”

He whispered in my ear as another bump in the road caused me to slam onto his lap. I closed my eyes and laid back on Matt like I was going to try and sleep. I felt Matt move his fingers out of my skirt and onto my hips as he rocked me back and forth agaisnt him.

The friction of our clothes building up as he stopped as his dad turned into an empty gas station.

He parked the car as he looked at the Triplet’s, “I would say let’s all go but Y/n is sleeping so everyone else but Matt come on.”

“Yknow what I want right?”

Matt asked Chris as he nodded, everyone left the car leaving us alone. I opened my eyes as Matt shook me.

“Turn around”

I moved around so I was facing him as he kissed me harshly. I kissed him back my hands going into his hair as his hands went under my skirt moving my shorts to the side. He undid the ties of his sweatpants pulling it down just enough for his dick to spring out.

“Oh god”

I said almost drooling at the sight of his dick, it was … Just big enough to stretch me out but not hurt me.

My right hand went down in between us as I jerked hi off a few times.

“Don’t tease me. Hurry up before they get back.”

I nodded and positioned myself ontop of him as he moved his dick back and forth collecting my wetness before he slammed me down.

“AH”

I screamed into his shoulder, I clenched as Matt didn’t wait for me to get used to his size. He began fucking me from under the only sounds in the car being me moaning and whining and the sounds of my wetness.

“Mmm.. Oh fuck yeah. Just like that baby. Take me like that. Your sweet sweet pussy is so good for me. I wanna fuck you until you can’t walk”

Matt groaned as I began moving up and down on his dick as well.

“You fill me up so well”

I said as he kissed me, his hands cupping my ass as he picked up the speed.

“I’m going to fucking cum.. Please let me cum inside that tight little pussy of yours”

Matt groaned his head falling back as I nodded frantically.

“Please please please”

I cried feeling my climax coming. My head fell down into your shoulder as I felt my body tremble. I clenched around him as he moaned loudly.

“Fuck.. I’m cumming.. I’m-“

I felt his hot liquid shot inside me as he slowed his pace down. He grabbed my jaw as he moved my face up to meet his.

He kissed me softly before pulling out.

“You felt so fucking good”

Matt muttered as he turned me around fixing his belt and my skirt. I rested my head on his shoulder as I tried to calm down my breath.

Nick would KILL me if he found out I just had sex with his twin in public.

“Your hearts beating so fast Y/n holy shit calm down”

Matt joked his hand on my chest as I rolled my eyes.

“Fuck you”

“I already did sweetheart”

Matt replied chuckling a bit.

[munson-blurbs]

How do you think Eddie would react to a fwb reader who uses sex as a distraction from their feelings?? Like, they’ve been having a bad week an their mental state isn’t great but heyyy there’s sex. Reader doesn’t really care about the pleasure part of sex just the distraction. Worried Eddie would feel a little used ngl :P

((Dancy dances away nervously))

I know you started this with "do you think" but my brain said WRITE A BLURB so here we are. Also shoutout @corroded-hellfire for helping me make it cute without being cliche.

Warnings: mentions of smut (18+ only, minors DNI), friends with benefits, angst/yearning, idiots in love, made it fluffy because I'm a sap

WC: 747

--

You hadn’t thought anything of it the night he’d called you “baby.” He was deep within you, melding his body with yours. Lost in the moment.

Or the night he’d mumbled, “your pussy was made for me” while slamming into you from behind. It was just dirty talk; nothing more and nothing less. 

Maybe you should have been tipped off when he’d growled, “mine,” his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed soft kisses below your earlobe. You’d figured the word, like the sex, was meaningless. 

But tonight’s comment stops you in your tracks. Your legs are wobbling beneath you, exhausted from riding him, as you step back into your pants. 

“Do you wanna, like, cuddle for a sec?”

A giggle escapes from your lips, swollen and kiss-bitten. He’s joking; he has to be. The two of you have a perfectly choreographed routine: you have a bad day, you call Eddie, you fuck, and then you leave. And his latest suggestion would definitely interfere with step four. 

When your eyes meet his, you realize that he’s serious. Hurt and confusion at your laughter crease his brows, and he tugs the sheet up a bit higher. 

“Sorry, I, um…” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “Never mind. You probably have to go anyway.”

You’re in no hurry to return home, fresh off of yet another argument with your roommate. That’s why you’d come over to Eddie’s trailer in the first place. And it isn’t as though you’d never thought about being in his strong, tattooed arms. The way he’d hold you flush against him, your cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. It’s something you’d once wanted—craved, even—but you couldn’t let vulnerability infiltrate you like that again. 

You spent high school watching him pine over the cheerleaders. He unwittingly broke your heart over and over with each woman he hooked up with at the Hideout, overlooking you despite your presence at every show. Being friends with benefits is risky enough, and post-sex snuggling will send you teetering over the edge back into the rocky terrain of unrequited love. 

And so you lean into humor as you shrug on your shirt. “I don’t think this friends-with-benefits arrangement includes cuddling.” Keeping your tone light and even, restraining every desire to crawl into bed with him. 

“Right, yeah.” He sighs and offers a sad half-smile. “It’s just…I was thinking—”

“That’s dangerous.”

He flips you off and continues. “I was thinking that maybe we could be more than that. Y’know, maybe we could have sex when you’re happy, too.” 

“I am happy when we have sex,” you counter.

Eddie shakes his head again. “I’m talking about before we do it.” He gnaws on his thumbnail. “It feels like you only want me when you have a bad day. A-And I’m glad I can be here for you and stuff, but sometimes I wonder if I’m a friend or just a good lay.”

You try to look at him when you speak, but he keeps his gaze trained on the ground. “Eddie,” you start, taking a seat next to him. His chest is slick with sweat, the soft hairs matted down. “Eddie, I had the biggest, dumbest crush on you when we were younger. And knowing I couldn’t have you tore me apart.” You let your hand rest on his. “I can’t risk having you and then losing you.”

“Losing me?” Eddie laughs softly and his free palm comes up to cup your cheek. “Look at me. Where am I going?”

“You could find someone new, someone better, someone who—”

He cuts you off with a searing kiss, remnants of your arousal still tinging his lips and tongue. “There’s no one better,” he murmurs. “You see me answering the door at two in the morning for anyone else? Think I’d miss out on precious sleep for them?” 

One arm hooks around you back and pulls you in until you assume the little spoon position. Nimble fingers undo the button of your jeans, slowly and patiently, a stark contrast to the way he’d practically torn the denim removing them earlier. 

“‘S that comfier?” He asks through a yawn.

“Mhm.” And it is. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been in a while, at least without him inside you. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. He staves off sleep long enough to speak one last time. 

“I’m glad you’re staying, baby.”

--

[g0niki]

taste tester── y.jw p.js

pairing: bf!jungwon x reader x jay

word count: 1.9k

contents: no protection (wrap it up 😓), oral (m&f receiving), light pussy slapping, finger sucking, slight exhibitionism, light size kink, jw is a little mean🫶

a/n: I haven't written in a long time and quite literally wrote this at 3am, feedback and comments would be appreciated! i am very nervous to post this.

jungwon had jokingly mentioned having a threesome with jay on multiple occasions before, and every time without fail you had said no… but at this moment you were reconsidering.

jay's in the kitchen cooking up something for you and won since you're the only ones home at the moment, won showering and leaving you to watch jay with a focused pout resting on his face as he cuts up the meat and throws it to a bowl on the side. 

you never really understood what your boyfriend saw in jay, sure they were close but he wasn’t all that... 

ok, jay was all that, he is all that. the way his hands moved as he worked on the meal was making you feel some kind of way, your thighs slightly rubbing under the table imagining him holding you down so firmly and having you squirming... so maybe you wanted jay to join... just once though!

you wouldn't even have to tell won, coming out of the bathroom hair wet and clothes hanging off his body loosely, jungwon isn't an idiot,

jungwon can immediately tell just what you're thinking by observing you from afar, knowing that you're having conflicting thoughts at the moment, he'd come up from behind you and wrap his arms around you, kissing your neck and speaking into it 

"feeling hungry pretty?"

the pet name alone was enough to let you know exactly where his mind is, gulping down at his tone. he'd place one last kiss on your throat, sitting down next to you and lightly patting his lap, definitely up to no good. 

"cmere I’m cold" he'd use a pouty voice,, to anyone else it would seem like he's being his usual clingy self but this alone was enough to make your mouth dry. you could never say no to sitting on your boyfriend’s lap though, immediately scooting over and sitting on top of him, he'd wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder, pulling you back against him.

"look pretty, isn't jay hyung so nice to us" oh you were fucked "should we watch him cook?"

won pushing your hair behind your ear and lightly biting on it causing you to push your hips back on him.

"be quiet, wouldn’t wanna break his focus" You can hear the fake pout in his voice, feeling his hands massage your thighs as he now kisses your shoulder, letting his tongue trace against the bare skin and lightly sucking now and then.

"look at him, trying to do us a favor yet all you can do is squeeze your pretty little thighs shut and stare. it's rude to not help."

you wanted to bang your head on the table in front of you,, won being so close to touching you over your shorts yet continuously teasing you right behind jay's back. 

"jay's missing out on the best entrée right here." finally, won's hand is lightly tracing your clit. your thighs squeezing around his hand desperately and a small sound leaving your throat, his glancing over his shoulder to check on you.

"sorry.. hit my knee"

"be careful,, dinners almost done"

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

needless to say, that was the quietest dinner you had ever experienced, thighs sticking together as you picked at your plate. jay watching you with an eyebrow arched up, he knew you were picky but you usually loved it whenever he cooked.

"something wrong?" 

his voice slightly makes you jump, unable to even look at him in the moment.

"yeah, what's wrong pretty?"

and of course, jungwon had to play dumb, you could see the smile he was biting back and as much as you wanted to be upset with him he was so badly turning you on.

"nothing just-" and before you could finish your sentence won's hand is back against your thigh, tracing shapes against it "nothing." 

jay leaves it at that.. picking up his plate and walking over to the sink still just as confused as a moment ago but not willing to press any further.

"actually, y/n had a question for you hyung!"

you had never wanted to strangle your boyfriend more than right now.

watching as jay turned around and fondly stared at the two of you.

"yeah, what's up?"

you were out of words, staring with your mouth open not able to play off the situation.

"tell him, baby, you know what we talked about, ask him."

jungwon pushed you closer to the topic, a smile on his face as his hand continued to brush against your thigh, usually, this would be comforting but in this moment your heart was sinking, and you were throbbing.

“y/n, you can ask me anything you know"

and hearing jay be so ready to cater to you was almost enough to get a sob to leave the back of your throat.

"ask him pretty, or i will." the small smile on won's face was enough to send shivers down your spine, goosebumps coming up all over.

"jay... would you want to help us out.." and gosh you felt like you could hear your voice quivering as you asked, you had never been more nervous than right now. 

"... with?"

"don't play dumb hyung. I can see you holding back right now."

your stomach sank. won definitely knew a lot more than he let on, you had never heard him be so harsh towards jay before and it was leaving you soaking. 

"just look at her hyung, look at how she needs you, how badly she wants us."

hearing won talk about you like you weren't even there was honestly a bit overwhelming, you could feel your face and ears getting how wanting to do nothing but hide behind your hands and forget this was even happening. 

"let her say it won, talk to me y/n."

you were going to have to swallow your pride for this one…

"could you fuck me.."

"look at me when you're talking. ask again."

"could you fuck me." and that was all the two of them needed to hear. 

within minutes they had you back in the room, clothes nowhere to be found as you were pressed up between the two of them.

"isn't she so pretty hyung,"

won was behind you holding your legs open and letting jay enjoy the view, jay twisting your nipples and watching how the light touch caused the puddle between your legs to grow even more.

"you weren't kidding when you said she was sensitive."  

hearing the brief mention that jungwon had discussed you with jay before sending your mind into a spiral. laying back as won moved from behind you and onto the chair next to the bed. 

"why don't you put it in hyung, i wanna watch."

you'd never seen won like this before, he looked almost ravenous, his mouth almost watering as he watched. you couldn't take your eyes off of him, taken aback by his current state.

"you too pretty, watch while he puts it in." 

won's hand coming behind your head and forcing you to look down on yourself. jay lining up with your folds and cursing out above you.

"she looks so small, you sure she can take it?"

"even if she can't she will."

and that was enough for jay to push into you, the slight stretch making you bite down on your lip, he wasn't very different from won in size but he was thicker. won's hand holding your own as you both watched jay sink inside you.

"look at that pretty," and god did jay feel good inside you. his hands gripping your hips tightly and pushing them down into the mattress as he took a deep breath.

Won” fuck i'm gonna break her won." 

"do it, she likes it" 

won gently pushing your hair out of your face, moving around so that he was now above your head. 

"don't you pretty?"

you had your eyes pressed together tightly, entirely overwhelmed by everything, and won's dick standing above your head was not helping in any sort of way. 

"you think you could multi-task.”

you couldn’t even answer at this point, jay roughly thrusting into you and using you like a toy, rambling on about how good you feel and he could've never imagined being able to be inside you.

won now holding both your wrists and watching as jay pounded into you, your release dripping all around him and your back fighting to arch against jay's push on your hips.

"pretty open for me before i make him stop."

the idea of jay stopping now was enough to make you sob, jaw immediately falling slack for won. 

"there we go,"

won immediately filling your throat and admiring the slight bulge he made in your throat.

"look hyung, everything about her is just sooo small" jay reached up to trace the bump in your throat causing you to clench around him.

"fuck don't do that i'll cum" jay moved his hand from your neck to slap down on your clit and making your body jolt. won hadn't done that before but you'd be asking him to do it again.

won wrapping his hands around your throat and fucking into you is all too much, you rapidly clenched around jay cumming for who knows what time and causing jay to fill you up with no warning.

"shit, my bad-"

jay pulled out watching his fluid seep out, using his fingers to scoop some up and bring it to his lips.

"fuck won you've gotta taste this."

won pulled out leaving you to whine,  but you quickly shut up after seeing him take jay's two fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back at the taste of the two of you.

"fuck, it’s missing something.” 

won immediately moving to take jay's previous spot between your legs and quickly shoving himself into you, not taking your sensitivity into mind, his only objective being to fill you up even more. 

jay moved down to your stomach and worked his way up, finding his nipple in your mouth and sucking around it while his right hand fondled the other.

you could’ve sworn won was using all his strength on you, your body bouncing up and down as you tried to take even just a second to breathe, fighting to not scream. your hand coming up to jay's head and pulling onto his hair causing him to bite down on your tit.

"be nice,” he growled between his teeth.

jay pulls back to admire his work and watches jungwon finish the two of you off, taking himself into his hand in hopes of finishing himself off another time. 

"jay you better hurry up because i'm almost done."

won bringing his hand down to play with your clit in hopes of finishing you off alongside him, his thrust getting shallow and sporadic yet doing just enough to have you spilling around him, the noises leaving your throat being enough for jay to finish all over your abdomen and won filling you up nicely.

won pulling out slowly trying not to overstimulate you even more than you already are, lowering his face down to your cunt and licking up as much as he can.

he pulls you into a kiss, swapping the fluid between your mouths as jay watches with his jaw agape. 

pulling apart breathless 

"mm, tastes much better."

ᯓ★

@g0niki all rights reserved. do not translate or post my work anywhere without permission.

[changetyre]

Heyyyy I just read something with Lando and he says “I wasn’t asking” and I’m going to need moreeee please & thank you 😍

F*ck you!!! || Lando Norris x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: You absolutely despise the way Lando can having you screaming in anger and then pleasure in a matter of seconds…right? Part 1 Here

WARNINGS: **18+**, hate sex

A/N: I love me some hate sex, denying your feelings kinda fics

It was the worse feeling in the world, no doubt. Your first victory was right there, your hands ready to grasp it you could touch it with the tip of your fingers only for it to be ripped away from you.

The race had gone perfectly, exactly as you’d planned both you and your team had done an excellent job in what was undeniably one if the not the best race of your career, making your way up from P12 after a bad qualifying.

No further action

You read and re read the text ready to waltz into that damned stewards office and give them a piece of mind right before lighting the damn building on fire. That’s the amount of rage you felt right now.

Some part of you was absolutely ready to spend the rest of your life behind bars if it weren’t for that idiot of a man you so very much loved to fuck showed up in your drivers room.

“What the fuck do you want?” You scoffed, right about ready to slap him too.

He’d been the cause of it, happily taking the victory for himself without a care that he’d cost you your race and first and well deserved victory completely.

“I came to apologize.” Lando spoke, a smirk on his face that you wanted to wipe off but a fucked up part of you still enjoyed.

“Fuck off.” You shoved him out of the way as you continued grabbing your things scattered around the room to pack them.

“I am really sorry.” Lando repeated.

“Right you really did look sorry when you were happily spraying champagne up on the podium posing for any camera that pointed your way.” You bit back.

“Let me make it up to you then.” Lando grabbed your waist stoping you from moving around the room.

“Don’t touch me.” Lando almost believed you meant it if it weren’t for the fact you made no attempt whatsoever to get his hands off you.

“Wanna touch me instead baby?” That stupid confident smirk appeared on his face again.

“Fuck you!” You huffed angrily looking up at him.

“I bet you do.” Lando laughed before pushing his lip on yours.

You moaned in annoyance but once again didn’t try hard to push him away. Lando basked in the way you accepted it and tried fighting for dominance with your lips which only for today he’d be okay with giving you.

“I hate you.” You whispered as you yanked Lando’s hair back allowing you to trail your lips down his neck.

“I bet you do baby.” Lando only spurred you on as he felt you leaving marks across his skin.

“I do…so fucking much.” You almost moaned the words this time as you ripped Lando’s shirt off him letting your lips continue their journey downwards before yanking his pants down too.

“Show me how much darling.” Lando knew he had to be quiet, despite the fact that your little adventures weren’t secret to many anymore being victims of your loud ventures around the paddock after a day like today it didn’t seem wise to give people more to talk about.

You didn’t feel like prepping him, you quite frankly didn’t care for anything other than taking out your frustration on him, to make him whine and ache at your hands.

So as you began harshly sucking on his length you basked in the way his knees buckled from under him forcing him to find the nearest support to keep himself upright.

He tried to sit down but you were quick to deny him that luxury.

“You sit down and I’ll stop.” You threatened and you reveled in the way he obeyed, straightening up and his eyes begging for more.

Your own cheeks hurt with how hard you sucked him and you knew he wouldn’t last long, and you watched for the tell tale signs carefully.

“Sh*t that’s so good baby.” Lando panted as he gathered your hair in a ponytail.

His head fell back in pleasure, as he tried his hardest to contain the loud moans that wanted to escape his lips.

“I’m almost there…keep going…ah…ugh!” Lando’s groans got louder.

Just as he was about to release you stopped.

“WHAT THE-“ Lando absolutely hated the feeling, the ache that settled in his core with his pleasure being ripped away right at the last second.

“Feels shit doesn’t it.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You little-“ Lando hated the fact that he for 1 second believed you’d make him feel good and forget about today.

“Have fun taking care of that.” You poked Lando’s rock-hard dick before getting up, grabbing your bags and leaving him.

[slttygeto]

"IT'S A BLUE WORLD WITHOUT YOU" -- GOJO. S

c.w: heavy manga spoilers, heavy content mentioned towards the end (su!cide), wrote this with fem! reader on mind.

word count: 2k.

note: this is how I cope.

You are fifteen and you think Satoru is annoying.

You like rainy days. You like the feeling of comfort that comes with hearing the sound of rain hit the ground, the smell of soil and winter approaching and everyone pulling out their colored umbrellas to shield themselves from getting what. You love the rain, but you learn that someone doesn’t.

The door to the classroom slides open and you see a new figure standing by the door, looking extremely pissed. You share a look with your classmate, Shoko before Yaga steps from behind the new student and clears his throat.

“Girls, we have a new student-“

“I hate the rain.” The white haired boy interrupts your teacher and you furrow your eyebrows. Did he not know anything about respecting his elders? But before you could even think of possibly pointing it out to Shoko, Yaga’s hand collides with the back of the boy’s head and a loud smack echoes in the classroom. You watch the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“I was talking,” Yaga presses and the white haired male rubs the back of his head with a whine.

“That hurt!”

“Good. Anyway, this piece of shit is Gojo Satoru. He will be a student here with you. That’s Shoko,” Yaga points at the girl before moving his pointer towards you.

“And that’s (Name). Sit between them or next to one of them, it’s up to you.”

Gojo’s eyes flicker between you and Shoko for a good second before deciding to put his desk next to you and you raise your eyebrow.

“What?” He asks and you finally notice that he has sunglasses on during cold weather.

“I like to sit next to the window.”

“Well, he told me to choose.” He says before looking outside of the window, turning his back towards you.

“You don’t like the rain,” you add. “But I do, and I wanna sit next to the window when it rains.”

“You like the rain?” He sounds offended but you don’t falter and simply nod.

“Very much.” You hear him sigh before moving his seat back a little, swaying back and forth.

“Okay, let’s change seats.”

“That easily?” You raise an eyebrow and you can tell that he’s glaring at you behind his glasses.

“Just take the seat.”

Shoko watches the interaction with careful eyes but doesn’t say anything. When she turns to face the board, she notices Yaga staring at the two of you with something she couldn’t quite understand at the time, but she remains quiet nonetheless.

But then you turn seventeen, and you still think Gojo is just as annoying—idiotic, even.

You know you shouldn’t make him feel worse than he already feels, but Suguru was a dear friend of yours and the fact that Satoru couldn’t make him stay—despite it not being his responsibility made you feel like shit. So you storm to his room, you bang at the door and open it before he can even get out of his bed.

“You’re an idiot.” Satoru’s never seen you this heartbroken, but his eyes are puffy too and you should’ve stopped—you should’ve just left his room, but you didn’t. “You’re an idiot, you’re a horrible person!” And the louder you got, the closer Gojo stepped towards you.

“You think I don’t know that?!” Your heart stills at the loudness of his voice. “You think I am not aware of how badly I fucked up? You think I don’t know what was expected of me? I do! But I fucked up, and there’s nothing me-the strongest can do about it!”

And by the time tears are falling down his cheeks, you are holding his face and bringing him closer to you—hugging him the same way he’s been craving for years. You hold Gojo Satoru like the most fragile worn out cup in your pantry, you stroke his hair and let him cry on your shoulder as you wet his shirt too. For the first time in a while, you both feel like kids and you don’t realize the weight of what you both went through with Suguru leaving the school.

By the time you turn 26, Megumi has gotten used to your presence around the house. He doesn’t know whether or not you and Satoru are a thing, you never call each other ‘babe’ or endearing terms, and he knows just how shameless the white haired male can be, so embarrassment wasn’t something that could ever hold him back from referring to you as his partner. But he doesn’t, and neither do you.

You sleep in the same room, on the same bed. There have been nights where you and Satoru would simply cuddle on the couch and not exchange a single word, the comfortable silence engulfing the both of you when Megumi walks downstairs to the scene makes him raise an eyebrow before blurting out a single sentence.

“What are you two?” You look up from your book and Satoru groans a little because he was far behind in the page you were reading compared to you, but he looks at the boy you both took in after the tragedy that happened with Megumi’s father and gives him a look.

“And how does it matter to you?”

“It’s just… weird.” Megumi confesses and you give him an apologetic smile.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” The softness of your voice with him has always been the boy’s favorite thing, a reminder that a motherly figure that cares deeply for him does exist.

“No, but I just wish you made it official.”

His words hit you hard, and you try to pretend like it didn’t distract you from the book you were reading. Megumi goes back to his room and you are left with Satoru who seems to be adamant on getting you to notice him, or tell him off as he breathed hard against the back of your neck.

“Anything on your mind, Satoru?” you finally broke the silence and you shudder when you feel him press his lips against your nape.

“Don’t you wanna think about what he just said?”

And as honest as you can get, you simply reply. “No. I like it this way. Don’t you?”

Satoru is quiet. He presses a kiss to your skin and whispers against it. “Would love to call you mine one day.”

“I’m already yours.”

“Then let me say it,” Satoru makes you sit up and leave the warmth of his embrace. He turns your face around to look at him and speaks more firmly. “Let me call you mine.”

You’ve known Satoru for so long, but never has he made you feel so small and so intimidated. You are barely able to look him in the eye, flushed cheeks and trembling lips giving away the swirl of emotions inside you.

“Satoru…”

“Are you mine?” He whispers and his hand grabs your face in a way that has your breath catching in your throat.

“I am yours.” You whisper back, voice so small and body leaning towards his.

“Yeah,” he breathes out and his eyes trail down to your wet lips. “You’re mine.”

The night is long after that and you remember having to skip work the next day, with Gojo giving the kids a lame excuse as to why you didn’t wake up early to make them breakfast like you usually do.

“She caught a cold,” Satoru makes his way out of the house when he makes sure both Tsumiki and Megumi are in the car and the latter gives him a look.

“She was fine yesterday.”

“Yeah, I was surprised too.” The grin that Gojo flashes his spiky haired son is too cocky for the boy’s liking. You wake up an hour later with pain killers, breakfast and a note on your nightstand.

--I’ll be back after I drop the kids. I miss you already. I really enjoy calling you mine<3

You both are twenty seven when Satoru has to fight Suguru one last time. You hold your breath as your approach the duo having what you supposed was their last conversation, and with teary eyes, you step from behind the strongest to glance at the almost lifeless body of your once very close friend.

“Suguru,” you try not to let it show on your face, but you are broken. You don’t feel betrayed by him, you never did and it was something that Satoru chose to ignore since he felt all sorts of emotions when it came to his best friend’s abrupt decision a decade ago.

“Oh, you’re here,” the relief in Suguru’s voice makes your shoulders shake and your lip trembles in a sad attempt not to cry.

“When I asked to meet up all those years ago,” Suguru continues with half a smile. “You didn’t show up.”

“I refused to believe anything being said about you.” You confess. “Which is a bit insulting to you because you took it so seriously but…” You trail off, eyes lingering on the bruised body of your friend. “It just hurt. Knowing that I was there, but didn’t do anything about it.”

Suguru tells you that he doesn’t regret anything, how he simply couldn’t be happy in such a cruel world. Satoru tells you not to take a step closer, but you see his teary eyes and you hold the cold body of Suguru as tight as you can. The empty and quiet alleyway is filled with pathetic sobs and hushed comforting words.

You never heal from the incident that happened on December 24th, 2017.

You are now twenty eight and being brought up to the room where Gojo was. After being let out of Kenjaku’s prisom realm, you rush to your boyfriend’s side and slam the door open. There he was, sitting on the bed looking a bit too relaxed.

“Satoru,” you breathe out, tears brimming the corner of your eyes and said man opens his arms in an attempt to catch you when you throw yourself at him.

“Easy there,” he whispers against your hair but you tighten your hold around him and cry on his shoulder. “You really had no faith in me?” He tries to lighten up the mood, but when you pull away and have such a serious look on your face, he almost deflates and lets himself be vulnerable with you.

Almost.

“You were distracted,” you say and grip his shoulders.

“Won’t happen again.” He reassures you and leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Nothing can happen to me,” he continues. “I am the strongest after all.”

The sentence has a bitter taste to it now as you sit front row, watching the last few moments of his fight with Sukuna unfold.

Your seat is pushed back as you stand up abruptly. You wanna cheer when it is announced that Gojo has won, finally won—but you can’t. Your voice is lost, you’re not sure how, but your tongue feels numb and your heartbeat is loud. You feel your stomach churning at the sight.

Satoru spits out blood, and Sukuna has a smug look on his face as he watches the upper half of his opponent’s body detach and fall to the ground with a loud thud. And then it’s quiet.

No one dares to say a word, no one dares to move.

It was over, and Gojo broke the one promise he kept to both you and the students.

“I’ll win.” His lifeless body said otherwise. You can’t find it in you to think of anything—anyone but Shoko.

“Do something!” You scream out to her and the woman flinches at the loudness of your voice. Never has she seen you in so much distress. “Do something, make yourself useful—save him, he’s right there!”

“(Name)-“

“I don’t want to hear it… I don’t-“ you glance towards his body once again and your hands are tangled in your own hair.

“You can’t leave me Satoru,” you wish no one could hear you, but you see Yuuji’s body flinch from the corner of your eyes. “You know I won’t stay if you leave.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[cricket-of-the-hill]

So what's the deal with Fiddleford McGucket? Why's he like that?

Fiddleford as a character is so FUN because he's so complicated and tragic and honestly a little pathetic. On one hand you have this absolutely brilliant scientist with the potential to have been the in universe Steve Jobs who figured out that the universe is a hologram and built an honest to betsy transdimensional portal (with Ford's help, yes, but let's be honest: as mathematically brilliant as Ford was, I think his intelligence laid more in the theoretical side of things, really doubt he could have actually built the portal himself).

On the other hand, we have this man who up and leves his FAMILY to chase after a college friend who calls him one day saying "hey, I'm out in Oregon building a portal to another dimension. Little help?" and he doesn't even think twice before being like "bet" and getting his ass to Oregon. And even if you take in the context clues that things weren't going well with his marriage before he left (as pieced together by the brilliant @divorcedfiddleford in this post), he still had his son and McGucket Computermajigs and he just sets all that aside for this guy, which... 😶

I am gonna write this whole post on the assumption that Fiddleford was in love with Ford, but look, even if that's the case it doesn't make any of his actions less unhinged. Break here, because the post gets kinda long 😶‍🌫️

So here's the thing: in the fandom, it's fun to think that Fidds knew about Bill and they had some sort of taunting rivalry/love triangle thing going on and that's really fun to mess with, but FIDDLEFORD HAD NO IDEA ABOUT BILL. Ford never told him! So even if Fidds leaves California thinking he's gonna have his hot girl summer/queer arthouse romcom where he reconnects with the love of his youth and they spend the summer working in this secluded house in the woods where they can finally live out their romance, what he actually gets is a fucking psychological horror thriller where the guy he loves and is kinda trapped with is either slowly going insane or straight up getting possessed.

Now, all that is 😵‍💫 enough, but it gets worse because instead of doing the normal person thing and getting the hell out of Dodge, Fiddleford stays. He continues to help Ford to build the portal despite how weird the other man is getting, he continues to go cryptid hunting even after the nightmare goblin almost eats him, even if Ford clearly doesn't appreciate the work he does (research assistant? Not even partner? Come on), and never reciprocates the kind of gestures Fidds has towards him (like the infamous double Christmas gift bonanza).

Here's where the duality of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket kicks in: the thing is that he is incredibly brave in some ways and obviously really smart but also kind of a coward and an idiot when it comes to his relationships with others. He'll hit Thee Krampus upside the head with his banjo one day to save his friend and run away to Oregon instead of discussing divorce with this wife the next. He will leave everything he knows to pursue this one guy, but he will never ever ever confess to feeling anything other than friendship towards him. He'll put up with Stanford's creepy as all hell behavior but will never confront him about it even as Ford loses more and more of himself into his project (so no little intervention not even to help this man he's giving so much up for). Like, what was he expecting to get out of all this? If he was never planning to confess to Ford or leave his wife, what was he going to do once the portal was completed? Just keep on bouncing between wherever Ford went next and his family? Did he really think his wife and son wouldn't mind him leaving them behind without so much as a thought?

Operating under the assumption that Fiddleford is a closeted queer guy from rural Deep Down South Hillbilly County Tennessee (said with love, I'm also from the south, but we all know what homophobia looks like here) during the '80s (height of the aids pandemic which would have made everything worse) one can maybe understand why Fiddleford is like that. Why he is so so so afraid and why he ultimately chooses to erase his memories rather than just go back to his family.

So picture this: you are in love with your best friend but you can't tell him 'cause best case scenario he leaves you out to dry and worst case scenario maybe someone finds your boots down by the river and lets your parents know (and we know Ford is sweet and fruity himself and with a thing for outcasts and would never. Fiddleford probably knows that himself, but let me tell you that when you grow up with that fear it goes deep. Because you've most likely seen people who are kind get absolutely bent out of shape when confronted with the mere idea of someone like you existing in their near vicinity). Eventually, you get married and have a son because that is what you were supposed to do all along and even though you love your son and maybe even love your wife everything feels wrong. They expect you to be something you are not, you can never let your guard down, never be yourself, not even in your own home. So then that call comes and it's like a golden thicket: you can leave, give it a rest for a little while, go see your friend, stretch out those inventing muscles.

As much as the fandom clowns him for it, I honestly don't even think he went out there with the intention of cheating (emotionally or otherwise). BUT I do think he was hoping something would happen. It's just that it all depended on Ford taking that first step because Fidds sure as hell wouldn't. And then Ford didn't because he was too busy doing the sin cos tan with his trigonometry homework, but if he had, we could have had a brokenback mountain situation on our hands, lads. Then Fiddleford could have just gone along with it, and done all sorts of mind parkour to convince himself that that's somehow less bad than "outright" cheating on his wife.

So he gets to the cabin, right? And maybe things are good for a little while, like when they were in college. Fiddleford lets loose a little, Ford is happy with the company, they're friends! And I get the sense that they're the kind of friends that mesh really well, like their energies really match. As much as the fandom paints Fiddleford like a sweet cinnamon roll, that man is also a freak. He's out here building psychotic post divorce revenge pterodactyl robots and drinking abducted cow milk just to see what it's like. He's a bit unhinged! He and Ford are the two people in the world that can be like "I think the universe is a hologram." "Cool! Let's prove it mathematically, bro" and "I want to build a portal to another dimension. Just cause." "Catching a ride to your place with my toolbox as we speak, buddy." (My own personal head cannon is that Fiddleford didn't really become such a shaky jelly until the nightmare goblin got him. Like, he was never as adventurous as Ford, but I think before that particular traumatizing event he was all right for it).

Anyways, things are good for a bit, but the real world is still out there. Fiddleford has to make trips home every now and then, and every time he comes back it seems like something is different. A little off. At first it's nothing big, just a smile a little sharper than usual, a coldness in a look, Ford calling him "Specs" where before he was always a variation of his name. Then it's pointed comments that Fidds chalks up to a lack of sleep (is Ford even sleeping at all? Because he could have sworn for the past three nights he he has appeared in the same place Fidds left him when he went to sleep). Then it's a flash of yellow eyes, a maniacal laugh that Ford never used to make before, spells where he seemingly forgets how to use his body (bumps into things, tries to drink soda with his eyes?). As time goes on it starts to become more and more obvious that something is seriously wrong with this friend. And things back home are just getting worse and worse, Emma May isn't happy about Fiddleford skipping town so often, Tate wont stop asking for him, and look, was Fiddleford even making money while he was with Ford? He gettin' paid? Is Emma May back home trying to bring home the bacon while virtually single parenting? (How was Ford even supporting himself while studying anomalies? I can't imagine there's a lot of grants for that.)

But Fiddleford can't leave his friend and he can't really own up to how much messier things are at home because of this whole thing. So he keeps coming back to Gravity Falls, where he also can't really face up to Ford and either demand a clear answer as to what is going on or try to get him some help (an exorcist, maybe). Because if he does say something and Ford decides that he doesn't want Fiddleford around asking questions he's gonna have to go back home where after the Christmas thing he's honestly not sure he's really wanted anymore, not really sure he deserves it if he still was. So he keeps on doing his thing, telling himself "this is fine 🙂," while he sits in a room on fire with a bill-possessed Ford hanging from the ceiling like a spider and an disapproving Emma May looking in through a window.

I think the portal incident was what finally opened his eyes to the reality of his situation, in an ironic way. He destroyed his relationship with his wife and left his son for nothing. Left his own dreams and aspirations aside just to find out that when push comes to shove his opinion and well-being matter so little to this man he was ready to break the laws of physics for. He can't stay with Ford, and he sure as hell can't go back home, because that would mean having to face that he's done burned down all his bridges. So where do you go from there? Let me tell you, if I had the chance to forget the lowest, most selfish, stupid thing I did for a person who didn't even notice it, I'd do it in a second.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?” 

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile. 

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

 “No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by. 

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair. 

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.08.2024]

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Traded Posession

Dark!jacaerys x reader

A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭

Pt 2 here

TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink

word count: 1,656 words

They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You’re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.

The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.

The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s

men are the ones to find you after your

failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.

This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.

You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.

When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”

Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.

A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.

“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.

“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.

“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”

You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.

“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”

The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”

“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”

You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.

“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.

You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.

“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.

“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.

“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.

“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.

“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.

The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”

Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…

“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.

Stupid like biting his cock off.

He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.

“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”

You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”

Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”

You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.

“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”

“Over what, your Grace?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.

“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.

“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”

“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.

“Say my name when I fuck you.”

“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.

“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.

“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.

“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

[cherubshert]

𝒫𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉

Warnings: Kissing, Sunghoon was and is kinda mean, Slapping (reader slaps hoon), cursing, references to past bullying, anger, angst (i guess), bad writing.

a/n: I kinda wanted to write something a bit more mature, idk. This is so all over the place, im not the best at writing emotions or writing coherently. ngl i also really hate this, but i hope some else likes it.

The slap seemed through echo through the empty hall, the music from the party downstairs filling the empty air between you two. You chest heaves with anger, your fingers tingling as you finally made eye contact with Sunghoon for the first time that night. "What the fuck Sunghoon!" you scream, "What do want, why are you ruining this for me?!"

He stands there angrily, glaring down at you, his hand holding his face. "Don't put this shit on me! What were you doing with Jake?" "I'm doing exactly what you said I should! I'm wasting my time on someone whose worth the waste, isn't that what you told me to do?! I'm taking my feelings elsewhere because you don't want to reciprocate." Your voice shakes slightly, memories from the week before hitting you again harshly. Your words make him pause, his head moving away from you, cursing under his breath.

You scoff at him, turning on your feet towards the room you were so rudely pulled out of. "Where are you going?" You don't turn to him, your steps speeding up at this sound of his. "To the guy who actually wants me, I'm not wasting my energy on someone who only sees me as an object for his pleasure." He grabs your hand , effectively stopping you "I don't see you that way. " "Don't -" "Fuck can you let me speak."

"I wasn't in the right state of mind that night, that's why I said what I said. I didn't mean any of it." You rolled your eyes, struggling to twist your hand out of his grasp. "Save all that for some one else Sunghoon, you've shown me enough times what I am to you. You think I'm stupid? You knew I liked you ever since highschool, you treated me like trash, and then flipped cause you needed a distraction from that ex of yours. I know it all! I'm not an idiot anymore. Let go!"

"I've changed, I'm not like that anymore." He paused bitting his bottom lip. "I care about you, I really do." "Yea, that's why you got with Eunji, even after all she did to me." He let out a frustrated sigh, "I told you nothing happened between us! She lied, I'm trying to be honest with you, she lied!" Your stare into his glossy eyes, bitting your lip, your heart pounds in your chest, as you desperately try to find a sign that he's lying to you.

"I hate you." You mutter, tears trailing down your cheeks. "I love you."

Anger bubbles in your chest again, "No you don't!" You scream, ignoring the pain in your throat as you continue. "You never did! You never will! You said it yourself, while they all laughed, you said it, you said you found me vile, disgusting, You said it." You whimper your voice dying out with each word.

He watched you crumble, your head dropping forward. He searches deeply, into the treasures of his mind. It's in the highschool school's parking lot, its not clear but he remembers the camera, he remembers how you were brought up in discourse, the harsh scoff he let out, words he would now slap himself for leaving his lips. fuck.

He stares down at your crying figure, his hand raised to the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." his grip on your arm loosens, his arms wrapped around your shoulders. You hesitantly wrap your hands aound his waist.

You pull away slightly, letting his lips press to yours. He reaches behind you opening door slightly, your body stumbling back. He kicks the door shut, his right hand going behind your head, acting as a cushion as you both fall to the bed. Your hands rise to his hair, ruffling it slightly.

You bite at his bottom lip, hard enough to feel a metallic taste fill your senses. He groaned pained, pulling away to brush his lip with his thumb. "The fuck?" He questions affectionately, reaching down to cup your face. Shuffling in the hall catches your ear, before a door slams shut in the distance.

"I hate you." You whisper, not moving in your spot, you're eyes sparkling the same way they always did. He flips your body, still holding your close, your hands resting on his chest. "I deserve it." His tongue flicks out to lick his lip, your eyes moving to it. "It really hurts, can you kiss it better?" You hesitate, Jake flashing in your mind for a second before you lean down, gently pressing your lips to his.

[jellys-compendium]

JJK Mafia AU

MafiaBoss!Nanami Kento Headcanons

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x gn!reader Cw: smut, mentions of violence and illegal activities Word Count: ~700 A/n: I am so weak. One little thought about Mafia!Boss Nanami and my little brain went boom. I hope this brainrot sticks because I'd love to write a multichapter fic with this premise!

mafiaboss!nanami rules from his position at the top of his criminal syndicate with an iron fist. Nanami is ruthless when it comes to ensuring that each gang member respect the chain of command and obey his rules. If you mess up, he doesn't give you second chances.

mafiaboss!nanami who oozes wealth. The luxury cars he drives, the expensive suits he wears--that watch that costs more than what you make in a year circling his thick wrist. All of these things not only speak to Nanami's expensive tastes, but also to the raw power and unadulterated authority he holds at his fingertips.

mafiaboss!nanami who has earned his wealth and status through his cunning and discipline. He has made his way to the top of the food chain through his own merit alone. Nanami has a deep respect for others who do the same.

mafiaboss!nanami who has the entire city eating out of the palm of his hand. Neither the politicians nor police force make a move without his express approval.

mafiaboss!nanami is dangerous when he is crossed. Nanami finds no pleasure in killing, but he will carry out the proper sentence towards those who have betrayed him. Especially towards any poor idiot who has taken something that belongs to him.

mafiaboss!nanami who could have his pick of any woman or man he so desires. Models, celebrities, or whatever multi-million heir/heiress that catches his eye. However, Nanami had grown tired of toying with these spoiled and out of touch airheads long ago. Now, Nanami much prefers to spend his time entertaining himself with someone who has a head on their shoulders. Someone like you.

mafiaboss!nanami who wants you the moment he first lays eyes on you. But he is not interested in using force, or his power and influence to win your heart. Instead, Nanami prefers to watch you from afar, relishing in your fire as you try to make your way on your own. And yet, whenever you eventually--inevitably--storm your way into his office with a frustrated scowl and sheepishly ask for his help, the euphoria that blooms in Nanami's chest is as powerful as the drugs he smuggles.

mafiaboss!nanami who simultaneously teases you and lays claim to you through his purposeful and scorching touches. His large hand on the small of your back as he guides you to his car, his fingers tracing the back of your neck as he fastens the necklace he had gifted you, the way his lips barely brush against yours as he leans down to sternly scold you for putting yourself in danger...

mafiaboss!nanami who kisses you with a knee-weakening and breathless passion. He ravishes your perfect mouth so well and so thoroughly, that you know deep down in your bones that you'll never be satisfied with kissing anyone else.

mafiaboss!nanami who undresses you with awe and hungry reverence. Nanami can't keep his mouth off of you. The deep, rumbling groans that escape him as he diligently tastes every delectable inch of your body makes your heart hammer in your chest. Nanami leaves no place unworshipped.

mafiaboss!nanami who staves off the full force of his desire for you for as long as he can. But those sweet little cries you make, coupled with your lewd kisses and the feeling of your fingers digging into the muscles of his back are his downfall. Partially clothed, Nanami pins you to his desk and fucks you into it raw.

mafiaboss!nanami who isn't satisfied with just one round. After he's fucked you on the desk he moves you towards the window, propping your hips up before pressing your palms against the glass. He leans down behind you and whispers seductively into your ear that he wants you to watch your reflection in the glass. Nanami wants you to witness how beautiful your expression becomes when he makes you mewl and whimper and cream on his cock.

mafiaboss!nanami who offers to provide for you and protect you when morning comes--and smiles when you decline. Nanami's gaze is intense, laced with both admiration and possessiveness as he watches you slip back on that sexy little number you wore last night.

He can't wait to taste you again.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hi,

I just stumbled upon your blog and I am already obsessed with your stories.🥰 Your writing style and the way you describe the characters is simply amazing.

Anyways, I‘ve got an idea for a one-shot, could you please write one, where the reader is Dr.Lecters patient and they bump into a very distraught Will after his session and start talking to him. Hannibal get‘s jealous, because he thinks Will is interested in the reader,after the conversation ended, tension is really high during her sessions and it get‘s steamy in the end.(nsfw?)

Hannibal x Reader: What's mine is mine

Warning: smut, oral ( f receiving), no use of y/n, penetration ( p in v), possessive behavior, jealous Hannibal, anger, not proofread, gn reader, female anatomy.

Word count: 1,2 K

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“I've told you a thousand times that that door is for exiting clients only and you continue to use it.”

“Oh come on Hannibal you know how i hate using the other door. That empty waiting room always puts me on edge.”

“And talking with another patient is prohibited, you know that.”

You spin on your heels, angrily looking at your therapist.

“For the love of god hannibal! Did you see what he looked like? He was shaking so much I thought he was having some sort of seizure!”

You’d stumbled onto a very distressed will on your way into your appointment and simply couldn’t feel like you needed to help him.

“I'm surprised you let him leave at all. That man was a complete wreck.”

“It is my job to know what my clients need.”

“Clearly you're not doing it very well.”

You could tell you’d hit a nerve because instead of debating you Hannibal simply closed the door and stomped over to his chair. You shook your head. You didn’t understand why Hannibal was so worked up about you talking to Will. It’s not like you’d done anything wrong.

And the truth was you hadn't done anything wrong. If anything you’d shown you were an empathetic person. You weren’t the issue. Will was. Or more accurately, Hannibal's jealousy of Will was. Seeing you talk to Will had sent Hannibal into a sort of spiral. In his mind you belong to him but in reality you don't.

“Okay what the hell is up with you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh so is your face just stuck like that now? You gonna give me the stink eye for the rest of the session? I mean come on! You’re acting like you caught me kissing him.”

Hannibal's body tensed at your words. He forced himself to open his mouth.

“Did you want to?”

“What?”

“Did you want to kiss him?”

“Oh for fucks sake what does that have to-”

“Answer the question.”

Hannibal had risen from his seat. He walked over to you boxing you against him and the wall behind you. You looked up at him staring into his eyes. Hannibal was so close to you that you could smell his perfume. You took a shaky breath in.

“No.”

“What?”

“No, I didn't want to kiss him. I’m not interested in him.”

No in him but in someone. That's what your words sounded like to Hannibal. He desperately needed to find out who you were interested in. Even if it meant having to get them out of his way. 

“Who then?”

“You’re kidding right?”

Hannibal continued to stare at you as he awaited you to answer his question. You shook your head at him.

“You’re such an idiot.”

You pushed forward, hitting Hannibal's shoulder with yours as you moved away from him. Hannibal grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting too far.

“Who?”

You tugged your arm out of his grip, turning to face him. You looked pissed, it caught Hannibal off guard.

“You! It’s you, you ass!” 

Hannibal stared at you. You’d never yelled at him before. He felt rooted to his spot. He barely noticed you moving forward before you were tugging his tie. You gave him a bruising kiss. He moved to wind his hand around your waist but before he could you pushed off him.

“There. Satisfied?”

No. He would never be satisfied. He could still taste you on his tongue. And the taste was addicting. He surged forward grabbing your head with his hand. He shoved his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly. You let him, your hands moving to grip his suit jacket. The two of you stumbled across the room, hands wildly pulling at each other's clothes. Somewhere in the middle of the process you’d managed to unbutton Hannibal's shirt and he’d managed to remove your pants. Your body fell onto the loveseat, hand moving to tug Hannibal on top of you. He kissed at your skin, his hand moving to shove your shirt up. You gasped as his hands cupped your breast, kneading them in his hand. 

“Oh Hannibal!”

God he loved the way you sounded, gasping his name. He placed a kiss to the valley of your breasts before insching himself lower. He placed small kisses all over your stomach. You watched him with glazed eyes, observing him until he was on his knees before you. He tugs your underwear off your body, moving to place it in his back pocket. You raise your eyebrows to him and all he does is shrug. You squeal as Hannibal tugs you closer to him. He leaned his head down until he’s inches from your pussy. You bite your lip in anticipation. As soon as Hannibal's tongue makes its way to your fold you can’t help but throw your head back. Hannibal grips onto your thighs as you squirm against the loveseat. 

“Oh fuck. There! Hannibal there- shit!”

Hannibal grinned against your pussy, reveling in the way your hand grabs onto his hair in desperation. His fingers moved inside you, helping his tongue in his task to make you cum. You could feel yourself clenching around Hannibal's fingers, silently telling him you were close. If that wasn’t enough the high pitched moans you kept letting out should have been a sign. Hannibal sucked at your clit and you were a goner. Your hand gripped onto the love seat as you came. Hannibal watched you breath for a moment before beginning to climb over you. You tugged him down for a kiss, tugging at his hair. He bit your lip in return. 

Hannibal's dick nudged against your thigh, his pre cum mixing with your own juices. You smiled up at him, wrapping your legs around him. Hannibal took the hint, moving to align his dick with your entrance. He glanced at you for a moment, awaiting your approval. You gave him a small nod. He moved slowly into you. Once he’d bottomed out Hannibal stopped moving, giving you time to adjust. You opened your mouth in a silent moan, brows furrowing as you felt Hannibal twitch inside you. He desperately wanted to move but he would wait for you okay.

“Jesus Hannibal, what are you waiting for? Move!”

Well that was one way to put it. 

Hannibal began to thrust into you, his movements growing more rapid as your pleasure increased. He placed one of his feet on the ground, attempting to give himself more strength. You drew a breath in as he rocked into you rapidly. Hannibal leaned down tugging one of your breasts into his mouth. He sucked at your nipple, making sure to leave a mark. From the way you clenched around him he could tell you enjoyed it so he continued his ministrations. 

“Are you almost there?”

“Uhum please don’t stop-fuck-please i’m…”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, fingers digging into Hannibal's shoulder as you came. Hannibal felt you sag beneath him, taking it as his chance to guide your movements. His hands found your hips gripping them tightly as his thrusts began to flatter. Pretty soon Hannibal seed spilled into your walls. He laid down beside you, pulling your body closer into his.

“Remind me to make you angry more often.”

“Careful dear. That's a dangerous game.”

“Maybe that's how I like it.”

[nyctoaerah]

⋆♱⋆REGRETS

Content warnings: Angst, Death, Foul Language, Toxic behaviors, Unhealthy Relationships.

Pairings: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

“Are you still thinking about her?”

Obanai questioned, leaning  into the oak tree with his hands behind his head as his heterochromic eyes dissected every flicker of emotion on the wind hashira’s face, searching for clues hidden beneath the mask of indifference that sanemi had.

Sanemi didn’t answer at first, opting to shred a blade of grass between his calloused fingers. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

“No i’m not.”

He avoided Obanai's searching gaze, staring up into the leaves instead as they rustled gently in the breeze. 

Obanai gave him a look.

The serpent hashira knew how sanemi’s mind works. He was probably thinking about you again, and fuck was he right, Sanemi was thinking about you.

He was thinking of you like some lovesick idiot, he was thinking of your smile, the way you’d bark insults back at him whenever he’s in the mood to be grumpy.

The way you feel, and the sweet sighs you’d breathe into his skin.

He missed how well you knew him, able to read his moods with just a glance.

And damn, did he wonder what would happen if he didn’t acted on impulse back then?

What if instead of breaking up with you, and telling you to just leave the corps, he supported your decision?

Would things be different? Would the two of you still be together?

Would he be able to marry you like he had always wanted to?

“I know you’re thinking about her, Shinazugawa.” Obanai interrupted his wishful thinkings bluntly. Sanemi shot him an irritated glance but didn’t deny it.

There was no point in arguing — Obanai could see right through him anyways.

“Thinking of what could have been if you didn’t split up, yeah? Putting a ring on her finger?”

“Tch. Mind your own business,” he grunted.

“So what if i am thinking about her? It doesn’t matter.” sanemi answered bluntly, making obanai sigh.

“You should move on. it’s been a year and a half.” Obanai replied.

“It’s pathetic to still yearn for a girl. When you wwre the one who broke up with her in the first place.”

“I know it’s pathetic. You don’t have to remind me.”

Sanemi scowled.

He hated it—the reminder that he was the one who had broken your heart, the one who had walked away.

The mere mention of you was like a blade, pristine yet serrated; It was a very sensitive topic for sanemi.

Whenever you were the topic, Sanemi grew sensitive—He disliked discussing about you, because it hurts and left him feeling ashamed.

He loathed this conversation, this topic that dug into the wounds he thought had scabbed over, and he was ashamed that he was the one who broke your heart, when now he was the one pining and in pain. 

Why the fuck did the both of you have to be so stubborn?

All he wanted was to protect you—to shield you from the bloodshed and gore he faced daily as a demon slayer—yet your determination to join and spill demon guts for vengeance for your family was as immovable as a mountain.

Time and again he pleaded with you, begged you to reconsider, to choose another path, any path but that one. But you wouldn’t bend. 

It hurts him whenever he remembers that you and two had something special back then.

Every time he returned home injured from a mission, you would gently clean and dress his wounds with a tender touch, wanting nothing more than to ease his pain.

Your days were spent caring for the handful of stray dogs he had rescued from the streets, nursing them back to health alongside your own beloved pets and your relationship with him was basically all sunshines and rainbows.

But that was until a demon attacked and slaughtered your family.

Your gentleness turned hard as stone. Gone was the refuge you once shared; in its place grew thorns of bitterness, vengefulness, and distrust. All the love you had poured into caring for sanemi and your home seemed wasted and all you cared about was getting revenge. 

And your relationship became toxic, always arguing and all.

Though, one argument made him snap — when you said something hurtful about him.  He knew that he shouldn’t have risen to the bait, shouldn’t have let his temper get the best of him, but damn you just know how to push his buttons.

And before he knew what he was doing, the words were spewing from his mouth like vomit—words he could never take back, words meant to wound as deeply as you’d wounded him, and in the heat of the moment, he ended up storming out and dumping you on the spot, so that you’d quit the corps because he knew you wouldn’t want to see his face anymore or some shit like that.

Sanemi ran both hands roughly through his white hair in stress, tugging slightly in frustration as the events replayed in his mind. The hurtful words you had said were burned into his memory.

He let out a groan and leaned back against the tree, eyes closed as he tried to forget the look on your face when he left.

But no matter what he did, he just couldn’t escape the guilt.

And the fact that obanai just kept mentioning you was just adding salt into the wound.

 “If you miss her so bad, why don’t you just send her a letter and apologize?” Obanai asked casually, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Lower your pride a little. It wouldn’t kill you.” He added.

 “Trust me, I’ve always wanted to apologize.” Sanemi huffed out gruffly. 

“Damn it... I look like such a dramatic fool.” He grumbled to himself, cringing as he recalled his rash actions.

“Then why don’t you send her a letter? You know where to find her...” Obanai said with an arched brow, as if the solution was obvious.  

“I don’t wanna bother her.” Sanemi muttered, already dreading your possible reaction if he tried to reach out, he feared that you’d just tell him to fuck off.

But maybe Obanai was right... He really needed to apologize.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐀/𝐍: i was listening to xxxx by loonie when i was writing this dawg, it fits the theme & atmosphere of this fic... Same ground by kitchie nadal fits this aswell.

(this is totally not inspired by my previous rs)

[55sturn]

✮ TO KNOW THINGS LIKE LOVE

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader [ past tense ]

synopsis: in which matt still grapples with the devastating loss of his girlfriend, y/n.

warnings: angst. angst. angst. ANGSTTTTT. death of main character, car crash including flashbacks, matt dealing with survivor’s guilt, swearing, panic attacks, mentions of hospitals, night terrors. get your tissues ready.

THIRD PERSON POV

for a good chunk of his life, matt had things planned out for him. nick would wake up before both him and chris, plan their day then relay the plans and activities to the two younger triplets, and matt would roll with the punches with a minimal amount of disagreement.

then y/n came along, and she’d plan out dates for them, things they could as a group, and so on and so forth. matt was much more willing to go along with those plans.

matt could count on someone in his life setting the plans for the day. he could count on people directing him where to go and what to do. everyone in his life was reliable.

what he couldn’t rely on, was idiotic drivers t-boning the passenger side of his car, killing his girlfriend on impact. leaving him there, limp and bloody with his dead girlfriend beside him, her hand still in his.

what he couldn’t rely on was the ambulance getting to the scene of the crash in a decent amount of time, forcing him to hear the screeching of rubber on replay in his head.

what he couldn’t rely on was his night terrors and panic attacks, he was living in agony not knowing when they’d creep up his spine, forcing him to shoot up straight, choking back sobs and gasps of airs until he was shaking so violently that he’d double over and empty the contents of his stomach on the ground.

he was no longer the same person he used to be, and it was destroying him.

HERE I AM WAKING UP, STILL CANT SLEEP ON YOUR SIDE

matt was woken from a deep slumber by vivid flashes of light behind his eyelids, followed by glass shattering and y/n’s laugh getting cut short as the other car made impact.

sighing, he ran his hand down face, forcing himself to look at her side of the bed. he felt tears well along his waterline as he saw it in the same state that it was in the day she died, eight months ago. he hasn’t had the heart to remake her side of the bed or to even touch it, knowing she wouldn’t be coming back to mess it up.

pursing his lips, he hastily wiped his eyes, and climbed out of bed. flicking on the hall light, he stumbled into the kitchen. he sat at the table, flicking through his camera roll, watching the countless videos of his girlfriend laughing and smiling, bringing sorrowful tears to his eyes. unable to help himself, he picked up the glass of water he had grabbed himself and chucked it at the wall before dropping to the floor and bringing his knees to his chest, his body completely wracked with broken and choked-up sobs.

upon hearing the crash, chris made his way up the stairs, knowing he’d find matt in the kitchen. as he turned the corner, the sight broke his heart. seeing his brother curled in on himself, choking out sobs that were heartbreaking enough to bring the toughest man to tears.

“oh, matt. i’m so sorry.” chris whispered, sitting beside matt and pulling him into his arms, his face pressed against matt’s bicep as the two sat on the floor.

“it-it’s not fucking fair chris! i can’t do this without her. i can’t fucking sleep without picturing her cold, dead body beside mine, her dead fucking hand in mine. i can’t fucking breathe without her chris. it’s not fair that i get to go on while she’s six feet under.” matt sobbed, his voice raw and completely destroyed, breaking chris’ heart in the process.

“i know man, i can’t fix any of this, and i-i wish i could so fucking badly, but she wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up like this matt, and you know that. i know you miss her and i wish more than anything, to turn back time and stop you guys from going, but please, just hold on. for me, for nick, justin, for mom and dad. for y/n.” chris cried, rubbing his brother’s back, pressing his forehead against the side of matt’s head, trying his hardest to comfort his brother.

once matt had calmed down a little bit, chris let him crash in his bed while he slept on the couch in his room, knowing it was far too hard for matt to sleep in his own room.

THERE’S YOUR COFFEE CUP, THE LIPSTICK STAIN FADES WITH TIME

when matt finally woke late the next afternoon, he made his way back into the kitchen to grab more water, as he opened the cupboard, he spotted y/n’s signature coffee cup, her light pink lipstick stain still imprinted on the side of the cup.

with a sad smile, he gingerly took the cup in his hands, hovering his thumb over the lipstick print. sighing, he pressed his lips to the outer corner of the stain and placed it back in the cupboard.

CLEANING UP TODAY, FOUND THAT OLD ZEPPELIN SHIRT

it’s been two months since matt’s last severe breakdown. he had finally agreed to start grief counselling and therapy, knowing he had to do something about the things he was struggling to handle.

his councillor had told him he should start by bringing out a few of y/n’s things and placing them where he can see them, instead of locking them away and pretending like she was never there.

matt struggled to accept that he’d see her things but once he started doing it, he found that it made it easier. it made the process of healing much, much easier. with her things out in the open, it felt like she was still around the house. he had to remind himself that she wasn’t going to come through that door again, but there’s been a few times where he was able to tell himself that without crying.

and so, following his grief councillor’s advice, he also decided to do a deep cleaning, sorting through his clothes and other random shit in his closet. as he reached to the back of the top row of clothes, he found y/n’s battered and ripped zeppelin shirt.

the one she wore when she’d paint, dye her hair, do deep cleans around the house that involved bleach and other chemicals. with a heavy sigh, he bunched it in his hands, bringing it to his face and taking a deep breath.

for the first time in almost eleven months, the scent of her kingering perfume didn’t bring tears to his eyes. it brought a sense of comfort. almost like she was enveloping him in a hug from the other side of the portal dividing the dearly departed and the living.

IF I CAN DREAM LONG ENOUGH, YOU’D TELL ME I’D BE JUST FINE

as matt drifted off to sleep, he felt a warm hand caressing his cheek. the owner of the hand running their thumb along his cheekbone the same way y/n would. with a slight gasp, his eyes shot open. as his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he saw the figure standing beside his bed,

“hi my love, i miss you.”

“y/n, honey? is that you?” matt choked out, his body overcome with a strong, desperate sob as he reached out to touch her, his hand brushing through her silhouette. but as it brushed through, it almost felt like he was touching her.

“i miss you baby, so fucking much. just know it wasn’t your fault, matt. don’t blame yourself please.” she cried gently, making matt smile sadly, he always thought she looked so beautiful when she cried.

“are you safe, honey?”

“yeah baby, i am. i’m watching over all of you.”

“it’s so hard without you.”

“i know my love. i wish i could come back but i know you’ll be just fine.”

“when can i see you again?”

“some day matt, i promise.”

“i love you, y/n.”

“i’ll love you forever, matty.”

as she pressed as kiss to his forehead, matt’s body jolted completely awake, his head feeling warm where her lips had touched his skin in his dream. normally, he’d feel extremely distraught after a dream of her, but seeing her and hearing that she was safe, made him feel at ease.

unable to fall back asleep, he sat up and reached across his bed, running his hand along the sheet on her side, feeling the duo in the mattress that had molded to her body. smiling, he plucked mr. wrinkleton off her nightstand and planted him in the middle of her side of the bed, finding some sort of comfort in him keeping her side safe.

rolling back over, he reached into drawer of the nightstand on his side and pulled out the small velvet box that he was planning to give to her when the got back that night.

“one day i’ll give this to you, y/n, wherever you are, honey.” he whispered to the dark before tucking himself back into bed.

that night, he had the first peaceful rest he had experienced since y/n passed. he was able to fall asleep knowing how lucky he was to feel love as great as the one he had with y/n. he felt incredibly lucky to have known something so beautiful, raw, devastating, and pure. to him, he felt that to known things like love, is to have lived a full and warm life.

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[sehnsuchts-trunken]

I'll Show You Just How Sad I Am

a raymond smith x reader quick little blurb, just 1k words

there's mentions of smut in this so read at your own risk <33 who knows, maybe raymond will make a more regular occurrence on my blog over the next few weeks

here's my masterlist in case you want to check out my other works

"Should be the door to your left, honey."

Your voice is sweet in his ear, a pleasant distraction from the run-down building Mickey had sent him off to. It's smelly and dirty and even though he knows he should most likely feel pity, he's still just as disgusted. He'd be with you in a heartbeat if he could, safe and clean in the comfort of your home.

"Mickey should've sent a cleaning lady", he grunts as he knocks at the door, your chuckle almost making up for the very truthful, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

"Mickey wanted you because you're the best", you recite - you've told him often enough by now that it really is reciting. "And because he trusts you to keep this clean."

Which is easier said than done.

Twenty minutes later, the whole thing's anything but clean.

Sure, he'd very much accomplished bringing Laura home - but he'd also left a dead teenager in a puddle of blood about two stories down from where he should've been sitting.

"Left, left!", you call into the mic. Even though you're far from panicking, you're still much too loud, your voice flowing from his earpiece and stinging his brain.

"I'm trying, darling", he grunts back, breathless and panting as he pushes on, one foot in front of the other on the pavement of some random South London streets.

"I know, I know", you sigh. He isn't sure whether he's actually hearing you chew on your lip or imagining it, but he doesn't really have the capacity to think too much about it at the moment. "He's right in front of you. You've got him, Ray."

Yeah... The only problem is that what you must be seeing as a moving, flashing dot on a digital map, he's seeing as a bunch of teenagers trying to look intimidating. Probably feeling intimidating too. God, this is exactly why he didn't want the job. He isn't made for the fucking low-classed youth.

"You've seen enough?", that bastard of a boy spits at him. "Now I've got backup."

Raymond steadies his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath in.

"You couldn't back up a phone, you cunt", he rasps, his erratic heartbeat slowly starting to calm back down.

"Raymond", you scold. "That's a child."

"That's a bastard", he mutters, before he finally straightens and tries his best at a somewhat mannered bargain. He's really only here for the fucking phone. He needs those pictures, then he's gone. He doesn't want to leave more unnecessary corpses to take care of.

So he offers them money. Which is something that they should definitely take, just judging by how they look. Plus a visit to a very good psychiatrist. But they don't. It's the same fucking bastard who's taken the pictures in the first case and got him into this mess that refuses - and in such a really stupid way, too: "How 'bout you give us that bag and be gone anyway?" - god, even you let out a choked up laugh at that, your breath carrying through the mic and into Ray's earpiece.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. What a fucking bunch of idiots. Goddamn it. He can feel his blood boil, hot and hotter.

"It's bait", you mutter, your voice low. "Calm down, love. You've got a machine gun. Use it."

Yeah, fucking hell, it's bait, he knows that. It doesn't change the way he's feeling. But your voice in his ear at least brings him back down to reality.

"Right", he grunts, then he swipes his coat to the side, closes his hand around the grip of the gun and steadies his fingertips against the trigger. He pulls it out in one swift motion, points it at the sky and shoots. For a good three seconds longer than necessary.

"Just like that", you breathe, your grin dripping down onto your voice and melting into his ear like honey. You've really got to stop that, he actually loses his focus for half a moment there and in his line of work, next time that means sure death.

The entire bunch of teenage boys flees - as expected - and in less than a minute, Raymond has the phone pressed into his palm.

"God, sometimes I really hate that I'm not there", you sigh, something in the background ruffling, probably as you shift into a more comfortable position on your chair. "Kinda wish I could've seen you."

"Run after a little cunt like that? You didn't miss anything, darling", he says, turning his head left and right before he strides back towards the car, his steps long and purposeful.

"Turn the corner here", you mutter, your voice taking on that specific tone that tells him there's a lazy grin licking at your lips. He can just imagine how you're looking (especially now that he has the time and freedom of mind for it) - one foot propped up on those bar stools that you'd bought for the kitchen, your equipment organised on the table top in front of you, his shirt hanging from your shoulders and pooling in your lap, your head tilted back and your eyes half-closed as you talk to him.

"I don't mean the little idiot", you go on, undeterred even as he narrowly avoids a trash can. Fuck, you really distract him too much. "I'm talking about you. God, you sounded so hot I wanted to jump at you. Actually scratch that, I still do."

He lets out a chuckle as he spots the car, his steps slowing. He should hurry up, he knows that. But he's got you in his ear, talking in that sweet voice of yours about just how much he affects you. He can't pass up on that.

"You're a little fuckin' minx, darling", he mutters with a grin, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check if there's any possibility he could be overheard. He doesn't necessarily feel like making your conversation public, even as you hum into the microphone.

"Yeah, but yours", you mumble. It sounds like you're almost proud of that. "Here's an idea, love: Get back home before I finish my shower and I'll show you just how sad I am that I couldn't watch you."

[crispy-armpit]

2k follower special <3!!!

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH TO MY BEAUTIFUL 2,000+ FOLLOWERS!!

even though I have bouts of inactivity and a lot of inconsistency in my work, I am so thankful for all your support and love <3 as a thank you, have a short 2k special featuring my most popular boys, Liam & Deimos!

may be suggestive at the start;;; and big poly vibes

"you're doing so good taking us both, songbird... aren't they, pretty boy?", Deimos purrs.

Liam gives a whiny response, "fuck... where'd you learn to move like that, y/n? you didn't even give me a chance to finish you!"

your hands grip further into the controller in your hands, a minor migraine beginning to form, "please refrain from using dirty words while I'm kicking both of your asses in Tekken."

you feel the sofa where the three of you were lying down shifting from both sides, as you had been seated in between both men.

on the left, Deimos who was leaning himself on your shoulder shifted his head on your lap. his nose and lips snuggling themselves into the lower region of your torso. he sighs, "just let poor Lili win at least once, songbird... it's late and I need you in the bedroom as my favourite body pillow."

on the right, Liam had left the comfort of the sofa and moved to the floor, sitting right next to your legs. with his most pathetic puppy eyes, he begs while hugging your right leg, "pleaseee baby, let me win!! I need at least one win so I can go to bed in peace tonight..."

"no. both of you need to leave right now, go to bed!"

this was another one of their tactics to get you to sleep with them (you have a terrible sleep schedule). which isn't a bad thing, you love sleeping in between them.

but most of the time, it really really sucks- like in a suffocating way. by that you mean sandwiched between two pairs of defined and humongous man tits type of suffocating. and they always have you cornered or have their hands on you all night, so there's absolutely zero chance of you getting away from their tight grasp. it's as if their bodies are trying to fuse us together.

this was your way of saving yourself. by going to sleep later than them, they would be forced to lay next to each other instead, therefore giving you a fresh supply of oxygen through the night!

..... which is what you had planned in mind. but fate and two overly clingy adult men had other plans by accompanying you until you finally succumbed to sleep.

"look, I still need to finish the story mode, so you guys just go ahead first- AAAH!!"

Deimos picks your body up over his shoulder with ease, "ain't no way we're leaving you, I need my pillow."

Liam looks at you with a pitiful smile, "and I need my baby next to me."

"nooo... why won't you two just snuggle each other instead? you guys always suffocate me in your sleep", you complain.

"cause you're you. and we like it better when you're with us."

Deimos bellows as he opens the door to your shared bedroom, "yeah right! ya just need y/n to rub one out at night!"

"don't act so holy either, Deimos." Liam glares at him from behind.

lord, please save me from these idiots...