#its like... the moment u see it... and u make eye contact w them... its like... i saw u | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saatorus · 2 months ago

Note

hiiii i got an idea

idk if uve seen those tiktoks of usher feeding cherries to ppl inthe audience. but its soo hot and their making eye contact n everything. and usher gets shy lmfaoo. u should do the same scenario but w gojo, geto, and ur favs. afterwards he cant stop thinking abt u n shit. anyways just an idea u could play with,, love uu

wc — 2.4k

warnings — suggestiveness, sukuna is slightly insane

pairings — satoru gojo, suguru geto, ryomen sukuna

authors note: omg my first request ever... i hope i did you justice anon, i saw this yesterday at the gym and came home and immediately cooked this up

Gojo Satoru:

Satoru Gojo is known for his almost intimate shows—

Velvet lights, huge crowds swaying with the music, and Satoru in all his sexy glory. Truly, his stylists did him good. White shirt unbuttoned halfway, black slacks hugging his thighs—he’s gonna be trending on Twitter by tomorrow—mic held loose in one hand, confidence dripping off him like sweat. He sings like he’s talking to each and every person in the audience, every lyric of one of his more sultrier songs dipped in flirtation.

Another thing about him is that the man is shameless. Shameless in the sense that he’d flirt with fans, write the filthiest lyrics known to man but somehow make it sound like he’s not, purposely take off his shirt on stage, making the large screen behind him fill up with the view of his toned body—you can imagine the rest.

So it’s no surprise that at the end of each concert, he goes around each of the areas of the concert hall, a small jar of candied cherries in hand, picking whoever caught his eye so that he could feed them one onstage—make them squirm under the weight of his gaze, laugh into the mic when they get shy, soak up the moment with a wink that turns into a trending edit by morning.

But tonight?

Tonight, he picks you.

You're near the front, tucked behind a group of louder fans who’ve been trying to catch his attention all night, clutching the edge of your bag with both hands and watching him like he’s some unreal mirage.

It’s that shyness that snags him.

He stops in front of you. Head tilted. His grin spreads slow. Smooth. Deadly.

“You,” he says into the mic, voice warm, lazy. “You’re pretty. Real pretty.”

The crowd screams. Your eyes widen. His gaze drops for just a second—his lashes flutter low—and you realize with a flush that he’s definitely giving your chest a once-over. Subtle. Calculated. Appreciative.

He laughs softly and leans in closer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he teases. “You have to do it with me. C’mon—please?”

He says it so casually, but there’s something molten under the playfulness. And when he pops the lid of the cherry jar and plucks one out with two fingers, the mic dangles down and he’s not even talking anymore—just watching you.

Waiting.

You swallow, eyes flicking from the cherry to his face. He’s so close. Too close.

Still, you lean in.

You part your lips slow—tentative at first—and then shift. You don’t just take the cherry. No, something in you kicks in. Boldness, nerves, the power of the moment—you close your lips around his fingers. Barely brush your tongue against them as you take the cherry into your mouth.

The texture of the syrup. The heat of his skin. You draw back only slightly, lips glossy, chewing slow.

And God—Gojo freezes.

He blinks. The smile falters for half a second. His gaze drops to your mouth, then shoots back up to your eyes like he’s trying to play it off. But his whole body language shifts. His posture stiffens. Mic drops just a little. He clears his throat with a little laugh—but it’s cracked, breathier than usual.

He cannot stop looking at you.

His jaw ticks. You swear you see his pupils dilate, his throat bob with a swallow. His free hand flexes at his side like he doesn’t know what to do with it.

And then?

He doesn’t finish the rest of the cherry ritual.

He doesn’t go to the other areas.

He mutters something into the mic about an encore and disappears backstage the moment the lights dim—hand shielding his face, head ducked low, muttering something to his manager with flushed ears and a not-so-subtle bulge in his slacks that gets caught in one of the fan cams later.

You think that’s it.

But five minutes later, a staff member taps your shoulder and quietly escorts you through the back. Past hallways. Past doors.

He’s waiting.

Shirt undone, sweat still glistening on his chest, a water bottle barely touched on the table next to him. He looks up when you enter. Doesn’t say anything at first.

Just walks over, leans down—

And murmurs in your ear, voice playful and sexy;

“How do you feel about signing an NDA?”

--- Suguru Geto:

Geto Suguru is the quiet one.

Not the lead singer. Not the attention-grabbing, crowd-hyping frontman. That’s not his thing.

He’s the one who stands half in the shadows, guitar strapped low, head tilted down with damp hair hiding half his face. He rarely speaks on the mic—just plays with this eerie, precise, low-burning intensity that feels like it’s aimed straight at you.

And God, does it work.

His band, Black Vein, has this tradition. At every show, sometime between the second to last and the final song, one of the members will grab a cherry—candied, dark red, the kind that glistens in stage light—and pick a girl from the crowd to feed it to. It’s become their signature bit. Sensual. A little cocky. A little unhinged.

Choso makes it romantic somehow—flushed cheeks and all. Toji does it all the time. Grabs girls by the jaw like it’s nothing. He practically dry humps the air doing it.

But Suguru?

Never.

He’s never done it. Not once. He usually slips to the back of the stage, sipping water while his bandmates act feral. It’s part of his charm—he’s above all that. He’s mystery and tension and slow smirks that say nothing and everything at once.

So when the lights dim and the instrumental intro to the closing song starts pulsing, and the band steps forward for the bit—the crowd doesn’t even expect him to move.

Until he does.

Casually. Calmly. He walks to the front of the stage with a cherry between his fingers and says into the mic, low and smooth—

“Well… there seems to be someone I wanna do this with tonight.”

The venue explodes.

Girls are screaming. Everyone’s pushing forward, trying to figure out who he's looking at. Phones are raised, lights flashing—and you?

You just freeze.

Because he’s walking in your direction. Steps slow. Lazy. That half-smirk on his face like he already knows how this ends. His dark eyes sweep the barricade. Then stop. On you.

You point at yourself. Confused. “Me?” you mouth, totally in disbelief.

He snickers into the mic, head tilting.

“Yeah. You.”

Your heart jumps so hard it might crawl out of your mouth. You're just standing there, kind of tucked behind some taller people, clutching your little purse and screaming all the lyrics. Maybe crying during that one song from their old EP.

And yet here he is, crouching at the edge of the stage. Guitar still slung on his back. Arm rested on his knee. The cherry held between his inked fingers as he leans in, waiting.

And God help you—you do it.

You lean forward over the barricade, crowd pressing all around you, and you part your lips so slowly. You look up at him through your lashes as your mouth closes over the cherry. You barely brush his fingers with your lips, just a hint, just enough to make him suck in a breath through his nose.

And you don’t stop there.

You let the juice hit your tongue, sweet and syrupy, and then you lick your lips after. Purposefully. Not overly dramatic. Just slow. And prettily.

Geto’s jaw flexes.

His throat works around a swallow.

He shifts his stance—subtle, but anyone watching closely would see it.

He clears his throat once, stands, and doesn’t say anything else.

He plays the final song with his head down and his legs just a little too tightly together. Doesn’t come near the mic. Doesn’t join the final chorus chant like usual. The moment the song ends, he slings his guitar off and disappears backstage.

The video? Oh, it blows up.

“GETO FINALLY DOES THE CHERRY THING WTF”

“Geto Suguru was NOT okay after that girl ate the cherry like THAT”

“who is she. WHO. IS. SHE. I AM ON A QUEST.”

Twitter’s on fire. Edits are made in seconds. Someone zooms in on his face the second you lick your lips, slowing it down frame by frame. He tries to play it cool. Ignores the notifications blowing up his phone. But two hours later, after a shower and a silence that makes Toji tease him relentlessly, Geto finally gives in. He finds your Instagram—through the tagged posts, stories, some unhinged fanpages. Seems like one of your friends who was there with you owns one of the unhinged fanpages. You’re tagged in a blurry crowd pic with the caption “bro suguru is in love with her.”

And yeah. Maybe he is a little.

So he sends you a DM. No burner account. Full main. No shame.

s7guru:

so, u like cherries huh?

---

Ryomen Sukuna:

Ryomen Sukuna’s concerts aren’t about the music.

They’re about the experience. The chaos. The heat. The spectacle.

People don’t go to see Sukuna sing—they go to survive him.

He’s not just the frontman of Japan’s most feral alt-rock band—he’s a legend, a menace, a walking threat to public decency. He’s banned from three venues for “public indecency” (whatever that means), and fans still scream for tickets every time they go on sale.

Every night of the tour, he does something unpredictable.

Last week it was throwing water bottles into the pit and calling it “hydration slut time.” The night before, it was making out with a guy on stage, pulling back to say “don’t flatter yourself—it’s for those hoes obsessed with editin’ me on that damn tiktok app.”

And tonight?

Tonight, the cherry jar’s already in his hand as he walks on stage. But there’s a twist.

“New rule,” he announces into the mic. His voice is raw and electric. “I’m not feeding anyone tonight.”

The crowd: BOOING.

Sukuna, grinning: “Unless one of you little brats thinks you can outdo me. I’m taking challengers.”

That’s the game.

He’s not just handing cherries out tonight. He’s challenging people. Playing seduction chicken.

One by one, fans are chosen. Sukuna feeds them a cherry, stares into their eyes, and waits to see who cracks first. He’s undefeated. Everyone laughs, giggles, or stumbles under the heat of his stare. He’s cocky. Cruel. Loving the control.

Until he picks you.

You’re already near the stage—dressed like you want to be seen. You’re here to enjoy the show. You didn’t expect him to choose you.

But when he locks eyes with you, something shifts.

He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t wink.

He just… slows down. Tilts his head.

Like he’s studying you.

“You,” he says into the mic, voice lower now. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He crouches again, holding the cherry between thumb and forefinger—close enough that you can smell the syrup. And the moment you meet his eyes?

You smirk. No nerves. No giggling. Just challenge.

And when he leans in to feed it to you, you part your lips—slowly—and let the cherry slide in, tongue curling around the stem as you suck it out of his fingers with the kind of mouth porn precision that is described in those tumblr fanfictions with a large NSFW minors don't interact slapped across the top of the post.

You keep your eyes on him the entire time.

You’re not blushing. You’re not breaking. You’re performing.

And he’s the one who stumbles.

Sukuna blinks. Swears under his breath. His hand flexes. The mic dips for a second.

“Fuck—” he mutters, voice nearly cut off by the mic.

He stands up too fast. Walks off to the side of the stage. The band scrambles to cover for him while he adjusts himself hard behind one of the amps, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched.

He misses the next two cues. Doesn’t return for the finale.

The crowd loses their shit—thinking he got mad. But the clip goes viral instantly on twitter.

“SUKUNA GETS OUT-SLUTTED FOR THE FIRST TIME??? 😳

“he literally disappeared after she did that 😭😭”

The TikTok comments go feral:

“WHO IS SHE.”

“no because she didn’t even flinch.”

“no way mans needed a breather after a girl slurped a cherry.”

“he’s so down bad he ghosted his own concert.”

He doesn’t find you. He tracks you down.

Like in person. Like a menace.

Two days after the concert, you’re chilling at a cafe quite close to where the venue for his concert was, absolutely not thinking he’d ever show up.

And then?

You hear boots.

Heavy. Loud. Confident.

You look up.

And there he is.

Sukuna. In real life. In daylight.

Hair messier. Tattoos peeking from a loose hoodie. No stage lights. No screaming fans. Just him.

And you. He’s got the same feral look in his eyes, but it’s worse now. Personal.

“So this is where you hide,” he says, like you owe him something. “Sucked one cherry and dipped like it didn’t mean shit?”

You blink. “I… What the fuck?”

He scoffs, hands in his pockets, all cocky swagger as he steps closer.

“I’ve been thinking about it for 48 hours straight. I left mid-song. Got chewed out by management. You think I’m gonna just move on?”

Turns out he asked security for the footage.

Got your face from the close-ups.

Zoomed in on your wrist band.

Tracked you through mutuals and tagged photos from fans at the show.

He even bribed a guy at the venue with signed merch to get the ticket name list.

For God’s sake he ended up somehow getting in contact with a friend of yours who told him that you usually lounge around this cafe on your free days to get some studying in (after he gruffly messaged her and explained he only had good intentions).

He did all that. Just to find you.

Why?

Because he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the look in your eyes. The way your lips wrapped around the cherry like you probably would look way better with your lips around his cock—

He leans in close—way too close for a casual chat.

“You came to my show, played my game, and walked away like you didn’t just fuck with my head.”

His voice drops lower.

“So. You gonna fix that, or what?”

#gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #satoru gojo smut #suguru geto smut #ryomen sukuna smut

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pearlzier · 10 months ago

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────⠀ BULL RIDIN' w/ COWBOY!MATT.

NOTES ,, idk this is kind of pwp but with a little plot ??? LMFAO cowboy!matt my dearest.... uhhh minors dont interact !!! this. is smutty n stuff 😞 ive seen so much negativity n its makin me so ☹️ like. please be nice to eachother idk bro its not hard.. ANYWAY ENOUGH YAP FROM ME let me know if u wanna be on the taglist <3

matt's obsessed with how you look perched up atop that mechanical bull, straddling it so prettily. his eyes rake over you as he leans against the railing surrounding where the bull is. it feels oddly intimate to him, seeing the way your thighs squeeze against the sides of the machine, how you have to hold on tight to stop yourself from being thrown up—inadvertently causing your tits to bounce beneath the soft cotton of your shirt. which in turn, has his eyes locked to the area for a moment before he snaps out of it.

he's sure every other guy in the roadhouse is staring at you, getting the same ideas that he is. you look perfect up there—having the absolute time of your life. even the guys beside him as he looks up at you are getting their fill, as much as it makes him wanna throttle them, he keeps himself at bay so that you can simply enjoy yourself tonight. and besides, he's the only one your eyes are on in the first place. with every buck of the bull beneath you, you're glancing up at matt as if to say 'look at me!'

it has a smile settling on his face, practically plastered on as he looks up at you, his arms folded against the railing with his chin resting against them. when he can, he gives you the occasional wave, just wishing to see that beaming smile adorn your own face like it is for him. as much as he's lovin' seeing you ride, he glances over at the worker controlling the bull to see when it's time for you to hop off, and well, time for him to get his hands on you.

quite honestly, he zones out just looking at you, in thought—he's only snapped out of it when he hears the patrons all erupt in applause, your turn on the bull coming to an end. before he even knows it, you're practically running at him and throwing yourself into his arms. "woah, hey there," a breathless laugh escapes him at the sight of you all giddy, and he easily wraps his arms around your middle.

"it was so good, i felt so tall—" you're beaming, clinging to him as if he's your lifeline. with your arms thrown around his neck, your body presses up against his. he groans at the close contact, having to loosen you a little to adjust his jeans so you don't feel the gradual tenting against you. "it was so fun, i wanna go again, 'n' again, m'tellin' you," it felt almost empowering in a way, all those people looking up at you ane clapping, cheering, whistling for you.

most important part was him, though. this has easily been the most fun you've had in weeks, months, maybe even years. the ranch couldn't compare to this, not at all. "yeah, had fun, baby?" he smiles softly, drawing you in closer with his hands running up and down your back. occasionally they dip lower and cup at the curve of your ass, thumbs stroking over the denim material idly.

"so much fun," you agreed, practically burying yourself into him. you're so damn pretty, he's weak. you looked so nice like this, but you'd look so much nicer riding something else, huh? he's reeling at the thought, eyes fluttering over your figure silently for a moment before he looks up at you again, not wanting to get caught with his thoughts. "that's good, darlin'," matt agrees quietly, a little distracted by the sight of you.

"you're so pretty, y'know that?" he can't help himself, his hand on your ass squeezing gently before he slides it up to your jean clad thigh, squeezing as well as he holds onto it. whilst he feels up your thigh, his free hand that stayed on your waist slides up under your shirt. the warmth of your skin makes him groan under his breath, his eyes lifting to yours. "just a little doll, ain't you?"

matt does this a lot—get all touchy and loving on you, and even so, you never get used to it. it always has your skin growing warm, eyes even dilating a little. "you're jus' flatterin' me. you do this with every pretty girl?" matt scoffs at your words. being cooped up in that farmhouse of yours made you sassy, watchin' all that television. he loved it, though, how you fired back with him.

"no, ma'am," he smiled gently, drawing you closer. "jus' sayin'.. you looked real nice up on that there bull," leaning in, he let his nose brush against the crook of your neck for a moment. the feel of his warm breath against your skin has you shivering however instinctively leaning into his touch. matt hums quietly, the urge to find some quiet area of the roadhouse and really give you a ride growing more and more each moment. "you're good at ridin', hm?"

"mhm," you hum in return, your lips parting with a soft sound as he squeezes all over your body. you can practically feel him hardening against your thighs, and he draws you closer once more. although, his gaze flutters up and around the bar for a bit. he looks back at you, biting his tongue for a second. "how 'bout," he starts, "you test out those skills for me? gotta put 'em to good use so you don't get rusty, darlin'."

"we wouldn't want that, would we?" a warmth floods through you as you speak, your eyes darting up to his. a lazy smirk crawls its way over matt's lips and he easily hooks his arm around your waist again. his hand slides into the back pocket of your jeans, curling over your ass as he draws you close and over to a quiet, partioned part of the bar. "mm, no, we wouldn't," he coos.

glancing around for a minute, he checks to see whether the coast is clear before he sits himself down. leaning back against booth, he glances up at you, watching how you stand there with your hands on your hips. "baby, you gonna stand there or come get to work?" matt muses, patting his thighs for a minute before he starts undoing the buttons and zip of his jeans.

"don't tell me what to do," you watch for a moment as he undoes his jeans, the way he easily rolls them down his thighs. he notices, his smirk widening a little. "but baby," matt croons, his head tilting to the side a little bit. "you like when i tell you what to do," and he's right, yeah. you really do. you're already unzipping your own jeans, pushing them down your thighs, and then off your body completely to give you room to move around.

"that's it," matt mumbles, eyes raking over you. the sight of you in just your panties and that pretty top has him groaning m, his hand sliding down to palm himself over his boxers for a moment. his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, jerking his chin in his direction with his free hand held out for you to come sit yourself down. "c'mere," his voice holds an almost whiny quality to it, his blue eyes lifting up to yours instinctively.

"m'comin'," you murmur quickly, glancing up at him. those blue eyes of his quite honestly make you weak. making your way over, you stand between his spread legs for a moment. this gives him room to shimmy off his boxers a little, freeing his aching, throbbing cock with precum oozing from the tip. he quickly moves his hand to stroke himself, getting himself ready to line up against your entrance and push inside you. he'd been waiting for this for a good hour or so now, honestly.

matt's hand stays lazily pumping his cock, but his other hand slides over to your hips and squeezes for a moment, before he draws you closer. it moves over the curve of your thigh, grasping at the meat of it and easing one leg over his hip, then he moves the other one to do the same. "you alright? still want this?"

"just—" you roll your eyes at his words, reaching a hand down to push your panties to the side a little. a little gasp escapes you at the feel of the different air against your wet folds, and matt scoffs in amusement at your reaction. if you could make such a pretty sound because of that, he knew your sounds would be even prettier when he had you riding him to high heaven.

you stare at matt for a minute, seeing the scoff, and you shake your head before you scoot so you're lined up with his tip. matt watches you intently, his eyes locked on the sight of you so pliant yet headstrong above him. he leans back against the booth, hands grasping at your soft thighs, grip tightening instantly when you ease yourself down on him. "fuck," it takes everything he has to not start bucking up into you already, but he knows he has to take his time and let you adjust.

"so tight around me already, sweetheart," being atop of that mechnical bull had already given you some real good friction if you were being completely honest, so you were wet enough for him to just ease inside without much resistance. your hands instinctively lift up to his shoulders, steadying yourself as you sink down. he's so warm, so close, his hands squeezing at your thighs tightly. "there we go.." when you're finally settled, he shuts his eyes for a minute, the feeling of being buried deep inside you making his heart race.

"open your eyes, please?" you love looking at his face when you lift your hips up and down, bringing yourself off him just to the tip before you slam back down on him again. he can't say no to you, not at all, so when you ask him to, his eyes open again. they're a little hazy, dilated from the intoxication of being beneath you. "mmh," you hum, taking the look of his eyes and just the way he's holding onto you as a sign to go ahead and start moving.

slowly but surely, you lift your hips up with the help of your thighs, and his hands, till your almost off him before you drop back down again. a throaty sound slips from past his lips, almost a whine. "look so good on top of me like this," he pants, drawing you even closer as you start to gain a pace that both of you like. you just let out the prettiest sounds as his cock drags against your walls, your thighs trembling a little with every bounce that you make.

feeling as though you don't need much of his help to gain rhythm, he lets go of your thighs and lifts his hands to your chest, palming your tits through the soft fabric of your top. "can't forget these, huh?" he muses, words shaky as his hips slowly start to thrust up to meet your motions. all of it has you whining above him, pretty little sounds escaping you with every one of his and your own movements. "ca—can't forget about those," you agree breathily, lifting a hand to move over top his as he runs his fingers over your nipples idly. "matt, oh my—"

it's a lot—the difference in how full you feel when he's buried in you to the hilt, and how you feel when you're lifted off him, god, it's stark, and yeah, every downward thrust has you crying out in soft moans whereas every upwards movement has you whining for more. "so greedy for me, aren't you," matt tuts, smiling gently at the sight of you looking so pretty and breathless, so needy. his hands find their way back to your hips again and he squeezes, taking that opportunity to start thrusting his hips upwards a little harder. his page picks up, your thighs shaking at the building pressure.

"that's all you needed, hm?" one of his hands slips down between your legs, beneath your panties, and his thumb starts working at your clit to get you over the edge. he draws firm circles around the bundle of nerves, his eyes lifting up to yours once more whilst he simultaneously pounds his hips up against yours. "making me feel so good, baby." but he'd get you there first, he'd make sure of it. you're practically soaking him, especially when that knot of pleasure bursts and you feel that familiar bliss wash over you.

it was a combination of his hips snapping up against yours and his thumb circling your clit, plus just the proximity of his body against yours and his eyes meeting yours on occasion that had you coming undone. "that's it, makin' a right mess on my cock," he coos, easing his thumb off your clit as to not overstimulate you and slowly sliding his hands back to your thighs to draw you a little closer. "just a little bit more, darlin'. you can take it, can't you? just a bit more for me?"

"just a little," you mumble in agreement, arms slowly wrapping around his neck as that fuzzy, warm feeling takes over a little. this is familiar in the best way, the rhythmic movement of his hips, his cock pushing in and out of you at a firm but easy pace. the wet sounds of skin against skin, it has you whining against him and practically holding onto his flannel for dear life.

he grunts low under his breath, "ain't gonna last long with you squeezin' the life outta' me like that," you can feel his thighs tense beneath you, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts start to stutter a little. his head tilts back and he lets out a guttural growl, eyes squeezing shut the moment he starts painting your insides white with his cum, his grip on you tightening impossibly so as he rides the waves of pleasure. "fuck," he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you closer.

it's so warm, everything's so warm, the feeling of his release oozing down the insides of your thighs as he holds you there. a soft moan escapes you, your head nuzzling into his neck. his eyes flutter open after a minute, gaze meeting yours in an instant. had you made a mess? yeah, definitely, but was this completely worth it? a hundred percent. "swear you're turnin' into my very own cowgirl with skills like that," his words come out breathy, and an airy laugh of your own slips past your lips.

"might have to go ridin' again, actually," one of the things he loved most about you: your insatiability. you never really do get enough of him, huh?

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#𐙚˙ ana writes ⋆.˚#cowboy!matt #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #⁺ cowboy!matt ˖ ׁ ⁩ 𓇼

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avidhorrormoviefan · 1 year ago

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wayne mccullough nsfw alphabet!!

i kinda got carried away and just kept adding stuff so haha yeah you’re welcome

alright before we start this off i just wanna say that wayne was so so very awkward during the beginning of your relationship but now he’s loosened up and so comfortable w you

alright here ya go

characters are 18+!!!

smut under cut

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

- he loovvvees taking care of you after sex. like he always has water on hand ready to give to you if you want it. he’ll get a cloth of you need it. he also just kisses all over your body telling you how much he loves you over and over

B - Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

- he likes his hands and arms. watching his fingers disappear inside of you over and over again mixed with the sounds that you and your pussy makes drives him up the fucking wall

- he sticks his thumb in your mouth

- when he starts to get tired and his head slumps down into your neck and you see his shoulder n back muscles………

- he loves your whole body, just the fact that he has it all to himself is wild to him

- but he does like your hips and thighs in particular though, like when he eats you out and he can just dig his hands into your skin???

- and also when he can see himself in your stomach phewwwww

- man he’ll just stare at it moving inside of you

- “fuck, is that me?” you look down to where he’s staring, seeing a bulge in your stomach from his dick.

- “yeah-yeah that’s you, wayne…” he does something impulsive and presses his hand flat against it and you moan out unexpectedly.

- “holy fuck…”

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

- when you go without a condom (wrap it b4 u tap it) he cums on your stomach or back for “easy cleanup” and totally not bc he loves backshots

- but when you’re sucking him off and he cums and some slips out of the corners of your mouth and down your jaw and throat and seeing that j gets him hard again

D - Dirty secret (A dirty secret of theirs)

- he wants to bend you over a desk or counter don’t ask me how i know

- or doggy??? he wants to see the arch in your back so fuckin bad

E - Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

- he’s only been with you so he doesn’t really have any experience

- you’re his first everything

- it’s kind of self explanatory to him so he knows where everything goes

- he just doesn’t know what to do to add that extra layer of pleasure for you, so he has you touch yourself and puts his hand on top of yours to see what he can do to make you feel sooo good

- and fuck is he good at it

- “like that?” he says innocently as he moves his hands though your folds just right

- “fuck, fuck yeah like that…” you say lulling your head back onto the pillow behind you, moaning out as he does it over and over

F - Favorite position

- anything where he can see your face. he loves when you make faces for him

- he also loves when you make eye contact, it makes it more intimate

G - Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

- he’s rather serious bc it’s such an intimate moment between you two

- buttttt, when you both get real into it yall go hard?? fuuuck he gets into itttt

- “yeah? you like that?”

- he can get goofy though like when he realizes what he’s doing he can laugh a bit maybe

- he can also make fun of your moans, mocking them when he’s more dominant

- “like it so much you’re fuckin droolin, yeah? fuckin whore…”

H - Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

- he’s not that bad just a bush around the base

- and he doesn’t care about your hair at all, like honestly as long as you’re happy and comfortable so is he

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect.)

- oh is he romantic

- sometimes he sets things up w flowers n shit all cheesy but you both love it. it shows he really cares and its so fucking cute

- makes you cum every time is all i gotta say. that’s his main goal, just make you feel good

- there’s nowhere else to put this so i’ll put it here, he puts his hand in the back pocket of your jeans please help me why do i do this to myself

J - Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

- he was never really the type to jerk off a lot but he did enjoy the few times he was alone

- but now that he has you he doesn’t really have to

- but when you’re not with him for long enough he jerks off but it’s never as good as the real thing with you

K - Kink (One or more of their kinks)

- BLOOD KINK PAIN KINK KNIFE KINK MY GUY IS A MASOCHIST

- ok one by one

- blood kink: he loves seeing either one of you bleeding in bed, he loves the taste, the sound when you wince for him, you bet you’re covered in scars that only he can see. OH MY GOD sometimes he cuts his fingers or thumb n sticks them in your mouth, saliva mixed with either of your blood at this point dripping down the sides of your mouth and down his hand

- knife kink: I MEAN COME ON??

- pain kink: goes w the last two but come onnnn. you see how much he gets beaten up for fun you can’t tell me he doesn’t get off on it a bit

- PULL HIS HAIR TRUSTTTT

- praise + degradation, he wants to be called a good boy what can i say

- choking is a big one, when he’s fucking you missionary and his hand travels from beside your head and onto your throat, he’ll squeeze just enough to feel your pulse

- he can also feel every single sound coming from your throat when he chokes you and he loves it

L - Location (Favorite places to do things)

- fucking anywhere and i mean it. the bed, the floor, the couch, the shower, a bathtub, a car, a fucking alley. anywhere kinda private, he’ll take you wherever

M - Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

- always in the mood, he’s a teenage boy, but when you’re in the mood? just pushes him further

- whenever he gets mad though, you’re in for quite the night ahead of you. fuckin pounding into you like nobody’s business and saying the most outrageous stuff in your ear especially after he gets beaten up bad

N - No (Turn offs, things they refuse to do)

- i mean he’s down to try anything once but maybe not pegging

O - Oral (Preference in receiving or giving, skill, etc)

- he loooovvveeeessss oral like omfg

- he’s so good at it lemme tell you

- he really doesn’t have a preference, whatever yall are in the mood to do he’ll do

- he fucks you w his tongue every fucking time

P - Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

- depends on how he’s feeling but usually he’s somewhere in the middle

- he’s fast and rough when he’s mad or just feeling more in the fucking mood

- he’s slow when he wants to just be with you in the moment

- you love both sides of him

Q - Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

- he doesn’t mind a quickie here and there but he loves proper sex

- he loves the foreplay leading up to it and the closeness + aftercare, he’s very sentimental

- but a quickies always good for when you’re on the run and have time

R - Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

- down to try anything once 🤷‍♀️

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

- he can go for a while sometimes three or four if he’s real pent up but usually just one or two

T - Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

- nope not really but if you have one he’ll sheepishly ask you how it’s used and you’ll show him and it inevitably turns him on and says “fuck that, i can do it much better,” and fucks you much better

U - Unfair (How much they like to tease)

- he likes to tease you just to see how far you’ll let it go, like only circling ur clit and not going anywhere from there.

- sometimes he’ll go into the bathroom w you when he knows there’s nobody else is in there and he’ll kiss your neck and maybe play w your pussy over your clothes and get you all worked up then stop

- “fucking every time?”

- “yeah.”

- off topic but speaking of bathrooms, once when yall were in the bathroom together and someone knocked he yelled “fuckin occupied” while going down on you. hot as fuck.

V - Volume (How loud are they, what sounds they make)

- he’s actually pretty loud

- he’s more of a moaning and grunting kind of guy but sometimes he’ll whimper when he’s trying to be quiet and it’s so nice bc you can hear how much he wants to be loud but doesn’t want to get caught :(

W - Wild card

- he calls you “ma” sometimes, both in and out of bed

- he doesn’t know where it came from but one day he was like “you want anything from the gas station, ma?” and you never questioned it and it stuck

- in bed he’s like “ma, please enough with the teasin”

- “needja bad, ma, please” all whiny n shit too

- shit like that AUHHHHH

- he’s a talker in bed

- “come on, one more f’me.. i know you can do it, baby”

- whenever you say his name in bed it gets him even more worked up

- “fuck wayne, please…” you don’t even know what your asking for at this point, his dick is so far in you and you’ve came already but he’s making you feel so good you just want more.

- and you KNOW his accent gets so much stronger like cmon

- oh and he follows you around like a fuckin dog, and wherever you need him for absolutely anything, he’s always in a 5 foot radius

X - X-Ray (What's hiding under the clothes)

- he’s a good 6-7 inches and does he use it well

- he’s well toned but not buff, he’s got abs and when he noticed you staring he flexes and you get all flustered and he loves it, smirking and laughing a bit when you turn away

- when you’re fucking, his stomach and arms flex and you can see every indent of his abs and biceps

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

- again he’s a teenage boy so his sex drive is pretty high

- he wants to be with you 24/7 and when he is he always has a hand on you never letting you go

- when you get in the mood you find him in the house and sit next to him, after a bit maybe move your leg on top of his, and this catches his attention from whatever he was doing. still not fully paying attention to you, you sigh and move to straddle his lap, fully taking his attention

- “what’s up” he laughs a bit

- “haven’t seen ya all day. missed ya” you say playing with his hair on the back of his neck

- “oh yeah?” he smirks, putting his hands on your hips, moving them up to your waist and down your thighs

- “yeah..” he slides his hands up to your waistband and hooks two fingers in them

- you tug on his hair, making his head jerk back and a grunt fall from his lips, smirk still plastered across his face.

- “you gonna do somethin about it?”

- and yall fuck right there on the couch

Z - Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- he’s pretty good about not falling asleep right away, he wants to take care of you first before thinking about himself.

- you fall asleep in his arms after he gets you two cleaned up and he’s right there after you

——

ty for reading!! this was so much fun to write omgg

i’m probably gonna make a fic out of some of these bc wayne is taking up my every thought help

also happy 2024!

#wayne mccullough smut #wayne mccullough #wayne #need him bad #please #like please #hes so bbg

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laursdomain · 2 months ago

Note

how about bodoc‘s first kiss?🥹

you're like ice

pairing: bodhi durran x ridoc gamlyn

prompt: bodhi and ridoc share their first kiss, a situation bodhi never imagined to find himself in. in the dead of the night, behind closed doors...what could possibly happen?

genre: fluff!

warnings: fluff, takes place during fourth wing, bodhi's insecurities {no self worth, overthinking for his feelings towards ridoc}

w/c: 1.3k

a/n: song is "ice" by kelly rowland; heres my first attempt at a bodoc fic!! hope u enjoy <3

ྀིbodhi durran masterlist

ྀིridoc gamlyn masterlist

scorching me, you're so hot hot hot hot hot hot hot

baby your love is so hot hot hot hot hot hot hot

Bodhi wasn’t sure how he got here. It was late, too late. Yet, time didn’t stop when his thoughts scrambled around his brain, refusing to settle down. If he showed up to Xaden’s room, he’d probably be turned away like a lost puppy, especially if Violet was in there.

He shouldn’t be out of bed. He shouldn’t be in this area of the dormitories. He shouldn’t be in Flame Section’s hallway. And he most certainly shouldn’t be standing in front of Ridoc Gamlyn’s door. His fist levitates, hesitating on whether or not he should knock.

There’s no reason for him to be in front of Ridoc’s room. In fact, they barely interact during the day. If anyone ever asked if they were friends, the answer was a hard no. But they didn’t know about the late night talks that would go on for hours until one of them was nearly falling asleep.

Bodhi’s closed fist lands on the wood, one, two, three times. He always knocked three times, almost like a code. The door immediately opened–too quickly–revealing second squad’s resident smartass. Ridoc was clad in only a pair of loose fitted pants, hanging low on his waist. His hair was slightly wet, still drying from his shower.

“Hi,” a grin finds its way to Ridoc’s face, before it drops when he sees the tense look on Bodhi’s face. “Is everything okay?” For a brief moment, Ridoc thought something may have happened to Violet, and Bodhi was sent as the messenger.

“Sorry,” Bodhi lowers his head, “I just can’t sleep.”

Ridoc’s eyes soften before he moves to the slide, letting Bodhi in. He closes the door after him, eyes briefly raking over the boy when he’s not looking. Bodhi was clad in one of his tight black training shirts, accompanied by a pair of black loose pants.

Bodhi sits on the end of Ridoc’s bed, his usual spot every time he visits. In secret.

Ridoc sits next to him, maybe too close, but he doesn’t mind. Bodhi’s heart rate picks up at the proximity, but forces his body to not betray him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ridoc asks, looking at the older boy.

Bodhi hates how his heart squeezes at his voice. “My thoughts are a mess right now,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, but Ridoc hears it.

“Why?”

Bodhi sighs out, “I wish I knew.” Bodhi knew why his thoughts were like this. With having so many exams, creating daggers, doing supply runs for Xaden–it was too much. He was burning out, and he wasn’t even using his signet.

Ridoc lays on the bed, his feet still folded at the edge of his bed. Bodhi mimics his movement, feeling the comfortable mattress dip below his weight. The two stare at the white ceiling for what feels like minutes until he feels movement from Ridoc. The other boy in question props himself up on his elbow, looking down at Bodhi. Bodhi makes eye contact, and he hates how his cheeks warm up at the grin Ridoc sends him.

“What?” Bodhi awkwardly chuckles, though he can’t seem to look away.

“Nothing,” Ridoc mutters, yet his smile doesn’t falter and his eyes don’t leave Bodhi’s.

Bodhi can tell he’s lying, something he’s learned from Xaden. “Liar.”

Ridoc squints his eyes, “how do you always know?”

“I’m just exceptional like that,” Bodhi grins, “now tell me.”

Ridoc rolls his eyes playfully, “your eyes are pretty.”

Bodhi playfully shoves Ridoc, his cheeks felt on fire. “You’re a flirt.”

“An honest one,” Ridoc teases, but his words hold truth.

Bodhi gulps, finally looking away from the boy. He knows that if he continued to look into his eyes, he’d be tempted to do things he shouldn’t. Ridoc furrows his brows, annoyed that Bodhi stopped looking at him. He liked when Bodhi looked at him. Before he can stop himself, Ridoc lightly grips Bodhi’s chin, forcing him to look at him again.

“I like it when you look at me,” Ridoc mumbles, resting his fingers on Bodhi’s chin.

“Okay,” Bodhi mutters. What he wanted to say was that he enjoyed it too. Too much, actually. Too much that he needed a break from Ridoc’s mesmerizing eyes. But because he’s so damn nervous and can’t contain himself, he settles on a weak one-word response.

After a beat, Bodhi is tempted to look away. Before he can make any movement, he catches Ridoc’s. Ridoc not-so-sneakily glances down at Bodhi’s lips before they flicker back up to his eyes. Ridoc hopes he wasn’t caught, but wouldn’t mind if he was.

Bodhi caught him.

Bodhi looks away again, needing to catch his breath even though they are doing absolutely nothing. He feels pathetic, he feels small and weak. He couldn’t help but think his father would be disappointed, the man who taught him to be big and strong in front of anyone and everyone. He always was, until it came to people he cared about.

Did he care about Ridoc? Bodhi wasn’t too sure. He enjoyed their late night talks, it was comforting. Even though he was hiding too many things from the boy, he felt safe and comfortable. As if nobody could hurt him as long as he was in this room.

Before Bodhi can dwell on it too much, Ridoc’s fingers find his chin again, dragging his eyes back to the boy. Except this time, Ridoc’s grip doesn’t falter. Instead, he uses his grip to keep Bodhi in place as his head dips down, capturing the boy's lips with his own. Bodhi gasps in surprise, eyes widening. It takes him a second to process what is happening, but the moment he recovers, his own lips are molding against Ridoc’s.

Bodhi’s hands travel up Ridoc’s body, one hand resting against his bicep while the other tangles in the wet hair at the nape of his neck. Gods, he was a good kisser. Bodhi couldn’t keep up, but he didn’t mind. He loved how the kiss was full of tenderness and passion, never faltering. Ridoc’s lips were soft, too soft, Bodhi thought. They may have been the softest things in the world. Bodhi could stay like that forever, consumed by Ridoc’s lips until the end of time. He could get used to this, sneaking away in the darkness of the night to be consumed by him. Ridoc breaks the kiss, the need for air too much, and he takes pride in the groan that came from Bodhi’s plush lips.

Ridoc grins down at the boy below him, resting his head against Bodhi’s. Bodhi knew Ridoc would tease him for his reddened face later, or maybe now, Bodhi didn’t know, nor did he care. He promptly wrapped his arms around Ridoc’s neck, bringing the boy in for a tight embrace. Ridoc welcomed his hug with open arms, settling his body weight on top of Bodhi. Maybe he’d fall asleep that way, but that’d complicate things. People would see. But at this moment, Ridoc didn’t care, and he suspected Bodhi didn’t either.

Bodhi did care about Ridoc, maybe too much. Maybe Xaden would scold him for getting involved with someone that didn’t know what was going on beyond the borders, but he’d be one to talk. Xaden’s situation was far more complicated than Bodhi’s.

Bodhi placed a small, gentle kiss against Ridoc’s neck before nuzzling against it, inhaling his scent as he felt himself fall asleep under his body weight. He wasn’t sure when, but his thoughts stopped long ago. Maybe it was when Ridoc smiled at him, or kissed him, or maybe it happened once he embraced the boy. Bodhi didn’t care, not right now. He was more focused on sleep dragging him to dreamland, Ridoc’s bed and embrace far too comfortable. The two promptly fell asleep, almost managing to miss formation.

#laurs⁴⁴⁴ fics #bodhi durran #ridoc gamlyn #ridoc fourth wing #bodhi fourth wing #bodhi #ridoc #bodoc #bodhi x ridoc #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #the empyrean #rebecca yarros #fluff

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the-fo0l · 2 years ago

Text

Micheal Scofield dating hcs

notes: it's criminal crazy kooky insane how little content there is for this show

warnings: gn reader, s1 lore, super soft fluff!!!! also idc if u think its out of charater let me be delulu

he's so babygirl

a very devoted boyfriend (im pretty sure i say that in all my hcs but its true!!)

just so soft and polite and gentle with you aaaaa

doesn't notice just how hard he's fallen for you until he has to be apart from you a long while

such a gentleman, his intentions towards you are always respectful

before you we're offical he had quite the crush on you

sometimes you could notice that cool, calm, witty demeanor of his becoming more bashful and jittery around you

daydreamed a lot about you and your potential future together. what it'd be like to live with you, to start the day by your side, how you'd show affection, how you'd express diffrent emotions, what you'd talk about, your niche interests and quirks— etc

slightly creepy but he did do a bit of research on you to make sure he hit it off with you as best as he could

always says good night and good morning, over text if not in person

just imagine waking up, still cuddling, but with a little distance so he can properly take in your sleepy morning face

him just gazing at you so lovingly, his gentle smile growing a little bigger seeing you open your eyes, then moving one hand from your waist to caress your cheek and murmur "good morning" with his sultry morning voice

GOOD LORDDD

he developed a new-found love for his job when you two started dating cause thanks to it he can properly provide for you

and provide he does

doesn't think you should have to work a day in your life (unless you wanted to)

he'd hate for you to stay at a job you're miserable at

super proud of you for all your accomplishments

when you have to seperate while walking to avoid something in the street, be immediately reaches back to interwine your fingers again

expresses all love languages in some way but 'acts of service' is his main one

amazing at gift giving and romantic gestures

just when you think he can't possibly out-do last year's anniversary/birthday gift he suprises you with something super elaborate and meaningful

absent-mindedly makes origami flowers for you at work. you'll also find them all over your apartment, some hidden, some in plain sight

at some point he started writing messages on them. some with the most loving praise you've ever heard and some w cheesy pickup lines

p.s. he grins ear to ear when he finds out you've got a special box for them all instead of throwing them away

when you're both still a little tired in the morning, or when either of you comes home after a long day, he peppers delicate kisses all over your face, ending with a deeper kiss to your lips

your touch just makes all the headaches of his day-to-day melt away

also takes both your hands and kisses your knuckles while looking at you with all the love and admiration in the world god lord

okay enough with the kissing!

always opens doors for you

compliments you often, and always uses words like stunning or beautiful instead of "hot

loves making you flustered with praise

he's an amazing listener, and he looooves listening to you talk

also, he's quite intense with the eye-contact

he thinks you're the most gorgeos person in the world what can i say

it might seem like he's not paying attention sometimes cause of how lost-in-your-eyes he seems but i assure you he remembers every little thing you say

nods along and hums a little to let you know he's listening

"i remember you said you liked this, so i got it for you" typa guy

you're happy = he's happy

will often sometimes call you to talk about nothing really important, more just for the sake of hearing your voice

and if you're not much of a talker that's fine too, the silent moments you share are never awkward

he's canonically super observant, so if you changed anything about your apperance or if you were in a bad mood he'd notice right away, even if you tried to hide it

great at comfort too, that silky-smooth voice of his knows exactly what to say

he's a very handsome guy (i mean cmon just look at him) so he tends to get hit-on quite a bit

he'd always brushed it off before but ever since he set his sights on you he's been very adamant on very clearly and quickly rejecting others' attempts

when he was making plans to break linc out of prison, a huge amount of his focus went to making sure you were kept safe during the whole process

having you be there from him after news broke and after linc got the death sentence already meant so much to him

so when he trusted you the broad strokes of his plan, and you supported him??? ohmygod this man fell in love with you all over again

yes, he was worried, but he had to tell you, spending days obsessing over prison schematics and getting full body tattoos is rather hard to hide from the love of your life after all

granted, he could have broken up with you and tried to rekindle after he'd escaped, but be fr he could never bring himself to dump you

you never know what may go wrong, and his love for you wasn't exactly a secret, so he took every precaution he could (as in like if someone wanted to harm you cause of your association with him)

he was still super anxious to let go of you

gave you the most passionate and desperate kiss before he went to prison

gets really really homesick for you

calls you whenever he can

would sometimes get teary-eyed from how hard he misses you before falling asleep in his bunk

would lose his mind if something didn't go according to his carefully constructed plan and put you at risk, cause there's not much he can do to control what happens outside foxriver. if t-bag ever found out about you he'd. freak. out.

he's willing to go to great lengths for the people he cares about (it's like the whole plot of the show), so you'd better not play w his beloved

on the rare occasions he has down-time in prison his thoughts always go to you and what you might be up to

he's surrounded by murderers daily and has the gall to be worried about you

sucre would pester him about his love-life a lot. insisting that he recognized yearning in michael's distant expression and saying that no single man could've helped him woo maricruz with that letter (michael writes love letters for you too)

sucre does eventually pull it out of michael and becomes just the biggest supporter of your relationship

this was kinda messy huh

#we're both infj tehehe #michael scofield x reader #michael scofield headcanons #prison break x reader #michael scofield fluff #sucre's obsessed w the romance here #i remember having a LOT of inspo for linc while watching vit now i dont rememberrrrrr

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god-has-entered-my-body · 11 months ago

Note

I know u busy but please please PLEASEEEE we need more of Matty w tutor. Maybe just a lil blurb of her being bossy & making him whimper.

since my partner loves this AU its happening xxxx

picture a scene:

It's a thursday evening, say around 6pm, and you're both upstairs in Matty's room

The door is closed, but not locked, but that all fades to the background the moment you feel Matty's rough hands run over the curve of your waist, toying with the hem of your tank top

You feel a gust of wind come from the cracked window, curtains flowing prettily as you get lost on Matty's mouth, tongue licking into yours at a dizzying pace, making you feel lightheaded. Your hands wander down to grip his waist, pulling him in to press him flush against your body, drinking in the low groan that rips itself from Matty's throat.

Quiet pants fill the room as he feels you up, groping and touching whenever he can reach with abandon, absolutely shameless in the way he gropes your ass through your skin tight jeans, kneading the flesh experimentally, grinning at your pleased moans.

Matty whispers something against your mouth, and you pull away to hear him more clearly. His pupils are dilated, face flush and chest heaving as you brush a strand of hair out of his face. "What was that baby?" you speak lowly, smiling at him.

"Wanna see your tits, please love." his voice is choked, and you can feel him hard against your thigh as one of his hands comes up to cup your tits, gasping softly as this skin makes contact with the fabric of your top. The smirk that spreads onto your face is smug, and you eye him up and down before responding.

"Want me to take my top off, is that it? See my tits?" you parrot his question back at him, and Matty nods, swallowing dryly as his cock strains against his trousers, impossibly hard. "Beg for it then, baby, you know how much i love hearing you." Matty's eyes widen like this is the first time, and the sight makes your head spin.

His mouth opens a few times, stuttering over words and sentences before he finally gathers himself, choking out a few pleas "Please love, wanna see them so badly, I know you're so pretty underneath all those cloth-" you cut him off with a finger to the lips, letting it drag down his bottom lip before it snaps back into place.

"Knees." you say, as clearly as you can without giving away how fucking turned on you are. Matty just stares at you, unmoving as you cock your head at him, raising your eyebrows. "Have I not been coherent? You heard me well enough Matty, go on, get on your knees."

His face flushes more, if that's even possible, and you can see his eyes flutter for a moment before his hands drop from your hips, and he starts to bend his knees.

The sight makes you dizzy with need, and you feel faint when you hear him hit the wooden floor, head still down. You don't know how to react, but your body certainly does. One of your hands threads itself into his untamed hair, tugging on it to make him show his face.

His eyes are glassy, and he blinks rapidly at you, his expression one of shame mixed with arousal. You sigh at the sight of him, smiling sweetly before nodding as if to say 'get on with it'.

"Please." Matty starts, his voice cracking at the end of the word, knees shifting on the hardwood floor. You can feel how wet you are even just standing there, and the sight of Matty on his knees and hard dont help you one bit. "Please let me see your tits love, need to feel them so fucking bad." he begs eyes watering as his cock twitches in his jeans, the knowledge that you are the one that got him like this going straight to your head.

You nod again, signaling him to keep going. "You'd look so pretty m'love, always make me s'fucking hard i feel like m'gonna cum from the sight of you. Need to touch them love- fuck, please baby."

Matty whines when your fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, slowly but surely inching it up to reveal the skin of your stomach, then your ribs, until finally..

You rid yourself of the top, the cold air hitting your nipples making you shiver slightly. Matty can't contain the whine that leaves his lips, ringing like music in your ears as his hands come up to grab your waist, pressing hot kisses to your bare hips and stomach.

His eyes are glued to your chest as he kisses your skin, licking and sucking light hickeys into it while you rake a hand through his hair once more, throwing your head back to enjoy the sensation. "You always sound so good when you beg for me, baby, can't resist you." Matty nods against you, his tongue rough and soft at the same time, your mind hazy and foggy from the whole situation, and you're quite sure you're still dreaming.

"Can I please come up? Please love, i need you so bad, m'so fucking hard for you." Matty whimpers, his voice high pitched and broken. You nod, watching as he steadily rises and immediately smashes his lips against yours. Taking over the kiss in a heartbeat, you let your hands roam over the expanse of his back, your nails digging into the clothed skin roughly. "Can I-" Matty starts, cut off by the feeling of your lower half pressed against his, a soft moan spilling from his lips.

"Mhm? Didn't quite catch that m'afraid." you tease, swiping your tongue over your bottom lip. "Can I t-touch them? I really want to."

How can you resist such a sweet request?

"Course you can baby, you've earned it begging so nicely for me." Your ego inflates even more at the eager nods he gives you, eyes wide and wet as his hands grope your tits softly, scared to apply too much pressure. Matty absentmindedly grinds himself against your thigh as he touches you, whiny moans filling your ears as you watch him closely, loving every second of this.

Matty takes a nipple between two fingers and rolls it experimentally, gasping at the choked groan that leaves your lips, smiling at his new find. "Like that, love?"

"I do, please keep going." you force out as he gets rougher, finally moving in to kiss you again. The combination of his mouth on yours and his hands on your chest makes you weak at the knees, desperately trying not to fall over. "Can we- can we lay down please?" Matty asks timidly once you pull away, shying away a bit as you giggle, nodding your head and grabbing his hand reassuringly.

"Take me to bed, Matty."

#hi #also hi G #lena speaks #anon x #i forgot the togs for this AU #iyts #if youre too shy #i think thats it #the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #the 1975 fluff

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wonyrs · 2 years ago

Text

fluster

enha hyungs x fmr gnr non-idol au, est. relationship warnings food wc 939 + library #

‘ enha hyung as ur 'homies' ! REQ

lee heeseung

" ayyy how u been bro?"

plays along and even replaces his normal petnames with something he'd usually call the members but NEVER you (until now)

um... hello? where is the endearing "why'd u call me that babe 😢☝️?" where is the begging for a kiss? where is the desperate attempts at pda we were hoping to see? this wasn't the plan at all (like... at ALL)

he tries to hide his laugh when u give him the stink eye and keeps up his act

even going as far to pretend like he isn't seeing ur hand inching closer to his and lifts it up to 'brush' the hair from his face

second attempt at holding his hand ended up with him fishing his phone out from his pocket and showing u an extremely!!! hilarious... insta reel.

ur plan has reversed; instead of him dying for ur affection, its now u trying to stop him from treating u like any other person before u physically cannot take it anymore

"ok man. i see how it is man. bye man." this is ur cue to stand up, run away and never look back for ur own emotional sake

if it weren't for heeseung GRIPPING onto ur shirt with the most gobsmacking laugh u've heard coming out his mouth, to the point tears were trsiling down his face from how hard he's laughing

"wait- wait [name]! you started it, come back!"

park jongseong

" how are u doing BABE? how's life BABE? "

mommm [name]'s acting weird again, i think the heat's getting to them

he acts like he can't see ur hand in the air and continues to kiss u right on the lips (but he still moves ur arm down for safety measures)

"what's good, dude?" "baby, who are u talking to? it's only us in this room lol 🤨"

u try again with dapping him up but immediately he turns around and oh so suddenly the wall is soooo interesting

for the whole hour u mess with him and call him 'bro, dude, gang' and shit like that while he just sneakily rolls his eyes and goes on with his day- while most likely wondering what on earth was wrong w u

he'd be in the kitchen washing the dishes while ure trying to hold his hand and have it dap urs up

but is he paying attention?

lmfao no

he goes on with his day since he knows u cant go another hour without his love and so he has nothing to worry about (unless u actually DO go for another hour, then he's actually going to believe something's wrong with u)

eventually u give up and go back to slumping on his back. the months u've spent together gave jay a clear understanding on ur antics and gave him some time to prepare for anything u had up ur sleeve

" tired already? an hour, new record babe. good job"

sim jaeyun

" why are u doing this to me "

the moment u refuse his hug and opt for a more... different greeting, jake malfunctions for a bit

he trys to hug u again but u extremely remain still

whines complains when u keep up the 'homeboy' act

"i swear we acted like a normal couple yesterday, did i make u mad pookie? 😥" sneaks in some of the petnames u absolutely LOATHE just for a reaction

hates when u replace the lovely kiss-and-hug interactions with dapping him up like a BRO

most likely complained to the enha gc abt ur 'unearthly' behaviour (u get his ass on that later) and cries that he might never see the old u again

the urge to drown him in all the love u've kept in since u met up is eating u alive But watching him practically cry over ur feet is helping u out a wee bit

"chat this is absolutely hilarious what are we thinking" "WOW! Hahaha so funny!! Such a kneeslapper! can u stop now 😐."

Hes dead serious when he says this btw Like full on eye contact with furrowed eyebrows, but a small pout is resting on his face

he was fine with the joke at first but then he just got more eager for ur touch as the hours went by

u stare for a bit before engulfing him in the biggest hug ever while peppering his face with an abundance of smooches

"finally! u dont know how long ive waited for this"

park sunghoon

" did u eat something funny? "

just stares. nothing else, just stares

eventually u have to drop ur arm because the silence just got too awkward

was he mad at u? (ofc not) Maybe hoonie just needed to load and take a bit to process the scene in front of him

"i dont think u should be doing this to your boyfriend, babe. it doesn't really fit the loving couple vibe yk 🤖"

even when sunghoon continues to act like everything's normal u keep on persisting with acting like close-bro-friends

... only to be met with the most baffled face ever.

he wonders if ure roleplaying as some character or just genuinely going insane

decides to go along with whatever you're doing and continue the day as normal as it can get

when u get tired of the lack of attention, u drop the act but unconsciously refer to him as bro

muscle memory(ish) fr

"dude can you at least act interested?" "um excuse me? what'd u just call me"

HELLO. where was this dumbfounded hoon when u need him?

ure actually laughing atp because he doesn't even look like he knew what was wrong

the whole time u kept up w the joke, he didn't even look like he cared UNTIL u got tired and talked in ur normal tone

"don't ever say 'dude' in a serious tone like that. scared me, babe."

@ wonyrs 2023

note sorry anon for not taking ur request after like 2 weeks... i've needed some motivation to write SORRY.. also maknae version is next :> requests open!

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biggesttmntfanintheworld · 2 years ago

Note

Because you're alive again may I request more mutant-mayhem stuff? Like I got nothing specifically but I would love to see more of it! :3

I'm going through a severe case of writer's block so I'm sorry if this sucks:(

prom night

mutant mayhem! x gn! reader headcanons!

the turtless asking their crush to slow dance at prom!

leonardo

NEVOUS ASFFFFFFFFF

"bruh all you have to do is ask" "ITS NOT THAT EASY-"

bro heart hurts so bad he feels like its abt to explode

sweating like crazy too

bro does NOT know what to do

bro uses his rizz which is not existent to win you over

"hey uh...I think someone must have stolen the stars and put them in your eyes..."(LMFAOOOOOOOOO)

"huh"

"Wanna Dance?"

his hands are really sweaty and icky(im sorry LMAO)

he CANNOT make eye contact bro

and at the end he tells you that you're really beautiful/handsome/cute and runs away

raphael

he doesn't really want to dance

because he thinks it's "not manly"

but his brothers are making him do it because they know he likes you

he really does not want to do it because he thinks it's embarrassing

butt...

he likes youuu soooo...

not nervous asking...like at all

like he's not scared whatsoever

bros so chill abt it.

"wanna dance?."

not sweaty like leo and donnie

"your eyes are really pretty"

donatello

EXTREMELY nervous

like you can see the sweat dripping off of him

can't breathe

bro is literally dying

"why are you so nervous just ask" "im going to kill you shut up"

he keeps walking up to you and walking back

like he's about to tap on your shoulder and he just walks back(hes so silly)

he uses very cringy anime pick up lines

"Is your name Cana? Um, Cana call you mine?" (Fairy Tail Guild pick up line LMAOOO)

"what?"

"n-nothing!"

he just awkwardly stands around you after he said that

bro does NOT know what to do

after like 2 minutes of him standing around you awkwardly

"h-hey umm do y-you maybe w-wanna dance?, its fine i-if you don't want to"

"i would love to"

"r-really!?"

"yes!"

he fell in love with you a little deeper after that dance

Michelangelo

THE ONLY MF WITH REAL RIZZ BRO

but not scared or nervous at all

he knows exactly how to rizz you up fr!

and now all he has to do is wait for the perfect moment to sweep you off your feet

as soon as the slow dance music starts...

he walks straight up to you and grabs your shoulder genty

"If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together"(HES SO SILLY BRO)

"oh?"

"would you like to dance with me?"

he smells like vanilla or cocoa 100%

he asked you out for pizza the next day after school

can you guys give me tips on how to do oneshots like I'm actually suffering

constructive criticism is greatly appreciated:333

BYEEEEE

#mutant mayhem x reader #mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem raph #mutant mayhem leo #mutant mayhem donnie #tmnt mutant mayhem #tmnt 2023 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt mm #mm tmnt #mutant mayhem mikey #idk what else to tag

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pumpkinsy0 · 1 year ago

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this post is about the shepards having autism/being on the spectrum, strap in,,,

btw to b clear, they all got some other stuff goin on w em mentally, but im focusing on them bein autistic rn, im a bit rusty when it comes to talking about them w autism bc i havent talked about it in so long, I HOPE THIS ALL MADE SENSE

tim- the same way ppl see darry as being autistic is how i feel w tim, its not much of a difference honestly, so ion have much to say. he comes off as cold but he’s rlly not, he’s blunt and that makes him come off as rude to a ton of ppl and so therefore unapproachable, generally prefers to be alone minus like a few ppl (those ppl being angela and curly, and hes kinda had to grow to get used to pony being around a bit). he kinda has a monotone voice. he does have a same routine generally speaking and HATES when it gets fucked up somehow, he gets pretty agitated. his special interest is maybe like, space or somethin like that, but he seems pretty casual about it so ppl dont exactly understand that its literally a special interest, if that makes sense. he can notice patterns n small things other ppl wouldnt. i could see him having synesthesia and pain insensitivity, thats part of the reason y ppl think hes so tough in fights, they think hes just so used to fights he cant rlly get hurt like others can but no, he genuinely just doesnt react to pain stimuli that much

curly- hes the one out of all three of em where i actually have him more fleshed out😭

he does stim, however its things that r deemed as more “normal” to do in front of others like bouncing his leg, tapping something, etc etc, but i will tell u a good chink of his stiff is chewed bc he just “felt like biting something”. he doesnt know the volume of his own voice and that gets him into a bit of trouble, sometimes hes rude genuinely without even meaning to and he things thats just bc hes a shepard, he has his moments where he takes shit literally or just doesnt get social rules. honestly i could see him being either a lil too clingy physically or him hating being touched by others, maybe hes a mix of both. he also has pain insensitivity and like i said, ppl think its bc hes gotten into so many fights, he just doesnt feel that pain no more, but nope, genuinely registers pain differently BUT if u want him to be hypersensitive to touch, i will tell u that he is tender headed so tim always has trouble braiding his hair especially when he was younger. this is like more modern day ish hc of him but ik he would be repeating words/phrases over and over (its called echolalia i think). doesnt rlly make eye contact a while bunch, its not bc hes nervous or it makes him uncomfortable tho its just like, a thing he does idk how to explain it. hes autistic but if u literally just got this nigga someone to get a look at him it becomes pretty obvious hes autistic, hes literally not even masking, if u had someone u hc to be autistic and they looked at him on his day to day life theyre def goin “hmm,,,”. hes def gotten into a fight bc he was overstimulated lmao

his special interest can b bugs or horror movie or something along those lines

angela- my girl angela,,,,shes the one masking thee HARDEST i just know it, ppl would deny shes autistic the most bc they dont understand autism in women, they would just say “shes just being a normal girl”, and i cant explain it bc we would b here for a while, but i will tell u she would show an obvious sign of being autistic and it gets written off bc ppl just see that as her being girly. ANYWAYS, shes hypersensitive (which means shes a bit tender headed, save my black girl), she gets annoyed by minor changes, has trouble making friends and this is for a multitude of reasons but her being autistic is one of em, has less obvious stims, she mostly plays w her hair, her special interest is more “socially accepted for a girl” and so ppl dont even see that as being her special interest which leads to her being undiagnosed, lowkey imitates other ppls hand gestures, and i have other ideas for her but i need to wrap this up this is becoming an essay😭😭

ANYWAYS they r undiagnosed bc they 1) dont have the resources to get tested lmao 2) they r black and black ppl tend to get misdiagnosed w something else bc they r so underrepresented and 3) they r immigrants and immigrant parents dont rlly believe in having mental issues lmfao 4) they arent the “textbook outlook” of autism

#curly shepard #tim shepard #angela shepard

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twsthc · 2 years ago

Text

scarabia angst headcanons 🌞💔

⚠️ warnings: food anxiety, self destructive behavior, possible OCD triggers, kalim

last updated: july 30, 2023

KALIM AL-ASIM 🦦

has C-PTSD from the constant threat of death

mostly gets nightmares, flashbacks, anxious, etc of when he was poisoned and kidnapped or when jamil was poisoned "for" him

has coughed up blood, has seen jamil cough up blood

really tries to hide how much it still gets him so he doesnt worry anyone

super light sleeper. a cockroach tap the wall and his eyes would fly open

has food anxiety

needs someone to test the food before he does, or he needs to know jamil prepared it or he wont eat it

after his first time getting poisoned he wouldnt eat jamils cooking either

after jamil's OB, he stopped cooking and contacting kalim and things really spiraled out of control

stopped eating/drinking anything until he was forced to

was literally bmi 0.001 until a teacher had to step in and force some goat cheese down his throat

parents would pay for material items for their kids but not therapy

i think kalim might have done some crazy shit to make his parents notice him out of the quintillion other kids they have

also he was raised by servants instead of his own mother

because of all this Mental Illness (specifically C-PTSD) he does get panic attacks, as one with anxiety disorders does

he uses pain to ground himself in stressful moments (mostly his nails)

digs them into his palms or thighs, whatever hes closer to

or he scratches himself until he refocuses

got especially bad after jamils ob. imagine the person who kept u safe and basically raising u coming out and saying he secretly hated u

me personally i would kms

probably cries himself to sleep

type of fellow to be super happy one moment then hear a sad/soft song then become svicidal (me when im having a great day then hear any song by Lamp)

JAMIL VIPER 🐍

fully believe jamil has NPD

after growing up in an environment where he was put behind everyone else, his brain desperately needed to be put first

its really hard to find good symptoms of this disorder without seeing bullshit like "10 signs your partner is a narcissist" omfg

some ACTUAL symptoms of a narcassistic disorder (for jamil):

he has poor coping skills, often projects his anger onto others, has trouble maintaining relationships, often requires praise or he might feel obsolete/depressed

too good at hiding his feelings even in shitty situations

has boiling anger issues but is able to keep them repressed (at his own cost)

after his OB, he distanced himself from kalim to process

after 2-ish weeks, they talked it out and set some boundaries

the first week jamil didnt force-wake kalim up, kalim was consistently late to all her earlier classes and struggled a shit ton with work loads

she couldnt even pick out her own outfits without jamil going "that ones fine, now hurry up" every few seconds

had to establish that kalim needed to learn how to live without jamils coddling

kalim agreed ofc but still felt a little lonely without her usual schedule

also has anxiety from being poisoned, and still has lingering memories of being so worried when kalim was kidnapped

i also think jamil has OCD :3

"if i dont do ABC then kalim with XYZ"

has other impulses (flicking lights on and off, needing to feel "even" on both sides)

i hope someone w ocd reads this and understands wtf im talking about

when someone steps on your foot so you have to step on the other one or youll throw up because you dont feel the same amount of pain on both sides

#twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #kalim al asim #jamil viper #scarabia #angst #ocd girlies wya #twsthc

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luv-beam · 5 months ago

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SURPRISEEE!!! i finished some things early and realized i had a lot of time tonight, so here i am!!! really, just a treat for me heh:

• dropping us immediately into everything-has-gone-to-shit oh ur praying on our downfall TT like the distance is palpable... and hao 😭 oh sweet, protective big brother hao 😭

• THE TULIPS??!?@!( STRETCHING TOWARD THE SKY??? my chest hurts .. the way yn looks at the garden now. like ik how it feels when something/someplace u once considered ur safe haven or safety net becomes corrupt,, twists the heart

• YOU WOULD NOT COME HERE AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭 UGLY CRYING its the way "at least not alone" comes right after and i wonder if seokmin feels the same bc he also walked by, but only w minghao (granted, this isnt his house but...) and bc u write that they were BOTH affected (im not delulu am i...)

• vapid fop... what if i chuckled hahah

• also HELLO YOON JEONGHAN (u couldn't resist, could u, tara ;))) "a balm to the bruised parts" oh. im honestly living for jeonghans character and that in some other life, he and yn might actually make the perfect match (also mama xu doing mama matchmaker things w said thinly veiled glee is everything)

• its interesting that seok and hannie have kind of switched tropes? idk if that makes sense, but jeonghan as the warm, comforting presence and seokmin as the teasing, haunting ex-relation. its interesting seeing them both in these contexts and i like the subtle way u point to seokmin still having feelings for her or, yk, CARING ABT HER

• oh so nooow u try to play nice ..... jkjk im sorry i have assumed yns soul at this moment LMFAOOO (we're at the return of hao)

• i have sm pettiness in my bones that i emoathize w yn too well in this section LOL like yn was holding back, she could have snubbed him even more thoroughly imo !!! the dettached politeness and careful dismissal of his attempts at conversing w her makes me cackle lol (sorry dk) loved the dialogue/interactions!!!

• "weaving an intoxicating tapestry of distraction" oooooo welcome back tapestry metaphor 😌 i love imagining all of this like one massive tapestry being weaved in of those big ass looms that u think of from ancient greece

• speaking of intoxicating, the way u described jeonghan previously reminded me of champagne teehee

• the fact that every time seokyn make eye contact w one another the world seems to pause makes me ILL. like u cannot make me think of that slow motion, light fading-esque scene every time like my heart cannot take it

• i feel sick 😭😭😭😭 like damn that hurts... like u hate to see them doing so much better than u and u capture that bittersweet heartache/break so well :')))

• like sure seok's reputation might have been scuffed a little when she ran away, but all of that negative social consequence is given to yn, not seokmin. and the domino effect of all her "mistakes" and all this isolation is so... accurate? truly, her isolation and helplessness/defeat can be felt thru the screen

• i can kind of imagine the scene where yns escaped back home and is just sitting in the dark,, like the muffled sounds of partygoers and then the door closes and it's so quiet... man im so sad for her

• "ah i see my sister's charming everyone tonight" PLS I LOVE U HAO 😭😭😭 he's such a sweet older brother bye skfndjfj the way he's so protective im so

• i am kind of curious if yn has realized/forgiven seokmin in some way? like ik she's bitter and also heartbroken cuz she felt stupid for believing he could love her back, but at this point, she seems to have forgiven hao in some capacity for trying to help her "save her prospects" last chapter. so would it be safe to say that she's forgiven seok for going along w it too? or ig,, its a little more complicated than that huh

• damn someone who can make even jeonghan nervous/uncertain? crazy lol

• all this time passing MAKES. ME. SO. SAD. FOR. HER. 😭😭😭

• i agree w yn, the tulips bring an unwelcoke reminder of seokmin 😌 sorry seokmin

• the gaping hole and taut tension during the brief scene of spring age 22 is so JSNFKDJFJ RAAAAAAAAH ik im on yns side but like i need to strap this girl to an armchair so they can talk shit out 😭 i love longing so much but i also wanna tear my hair out

• i looove that u describe each and every ball/society event in its own way, like they have their own unique personalities!! :'))) like this one as a kaleidoscope... so beautiful, its a pleasure to my mind. on a similar note, the way u described sohee's dress and appearance was MWAH!! like i can picture exactly what she looks like, she's such a vibrant and living character in my mind. though the irony is not lost on me how her appearance/dress is described in such similar detail as when yn was a debutante 💔 like she's now been cast aside and it no longer matters how well she dresses; no one expects her to steal the spotlight

• oh but this one hurts 😭 ^ like it was established in chapter one that she must exhibit restraint and hope often slips through ones fingers like water, and it's heartbreaking and utterly depressing that she kind of lives thru these younger girls' experiences bc she never got her happily ever after. ur not only sidelined, but ur forced to watch someone live the life u were supposed to have (its so cruel 😭)

• "i suspect that there's still magic left in ur own waltz" OH I HAAAATE UUUUUUU YOON JEONGHAN WHY DID U HAVE TO END UP SO GOOD 😭 why r u making me like him tara 😭😭😭😭 not the second male lead 😭 now i want him and yn to end up together

• a reminder of what ive lost... the ache... ugh its so good...

• ONCE AGAIN. the imagery is perfection. like ur painting of the gardens at night in my mind is SUBLIME

• SHE WAS MINE FIRST OH JEONGHAN (´Д⊂ヽ OHHHHH I SO WANT U RN ive always sensed this kindred heartache btwn us, bestie. also just both of them coveting a hand that isnt theirs... goddamn, it's always the pining and forbidden that gets me

• but also totally digging the offer for a loveless marriage. like they can totally just make the best of it :')) its clear that they get along, and who knows.. it could turn into some semblance of love :')) i like to think that he's a little desperate himself while trying to convince yn to take up his offer. although a man won't get as much blow back for being unmarried, he's still a viscount. mutual desperation, mutual heartache... just drawing connections heh

• A GARDEN PARTY IN THE QUEEN'S GARDEN AND YET ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL PANEL TO ADD TO OUR GROWING TAPESTRY WEEEE

• "punctuated by the delicate notes" oo i just had to say that i love that word choice, it scratches an itch in my brain

• oh. thats quite the uh scandalous position their seokie... also just the way that time seemed to slow down again, but this time, yns trying so desperately to put on a strong face that seems so ready to slip off at a moment's notice. like i can feel her trying to pull herself up by her bootstraps and not fall apart

• never mind my question was just answered 😭😭😭 yn baby pls i know ur terribly depressed but U NEED TO HEAR HIM OUT . PLEASE.

• I LOOOOVE THE ENDING, LIKE I LOVE THAT WE'VE ENDED UP HERE OF ALL PLACES LIKE OOOOOOO PETTINESS HAHAHAHAH

if u couldn't discern it, i loved this chapter so much!!!! :'))) like the superstar was definitely the tension and the push and pull of emotions as yn experiences her young life flash before eyes skcnkdnf i love that you've ghrown a wrench into the plot of seokyn via one very handsome and persuasive and lovelorn yoon jeonghan 🫂🫂 i cant WAIT to read seok's reaction, and EVERYONE'S reactions for that matter LMFAO i am so enjoying this series so far tara, tysm for ur hard work !!! 💖

The Somerset Affair Chapter 3: Promises Bathed in Moonlight

pairing: lsk x fem!reader genre: Bridgerton AU, friends to (?????) to eventual lovers, brother’s best friend, SLOWWWW BURNNN chapter wc: 8.8k warnings: alcohol consumption, societal expectations, crying, mentions of a panic attack (not being able to breathe), eventual smut, more to be added a/n: sorry sorry i know ch 3 took forever too lol // as always, ENORMOUS thanks to indi @wongyuseokie for this GORGEOUSSSS banner // and to my lovely betas shu @welcometomyoasis lou @tusswrites haneul @chanranghaeys

summary: maybe you really are well and truly alone.

comment to be tagged when chapters are posted, or join the fic taglist here! series masterlist

The First Year: Summer Age 19

The first season after that fateful night was like a hazy dream. When you returned to the social scene, the whispers followed: why had Lord Lee disappeared from your side, so abruptly and publicly, leaving you to stand alone in the wake of his departure?

You endured it with a forced smile, accepting dances from any man who offered. Seokmin, when you saw him, was always nearby yet achingly out of reach, just beyond the edge of the crowd, his gaze never straying to you. Minghao, perhaps sensing the fraught silence between you, would draw you into conversation whenever he could, his manner protective, his eyes wary.

The estate gardens were nothing short of stunning in the late spring. Bursts of red and yellow tulips stretched toward the sky, their vibrant hues softened only by the ivy draping from the nearby trellis. The whole scene was picturesque, brimming with life and warmth. Yet, to you, it held only shadows, echoes of laughter from a time that now felt far away.

You’d meant to pass by quickly, perhaps even avoid the gardens altogether, but the pull was magnetic, the memories nestled there too insistent to ignore. This had been your sanctuary, your haven of whispered secrets and boundless dreams. You had spent countless summer afternoons here with Seokmin, lying on the grass, watching clouds drift lazily by as he teased you with nonsense riddles and ridiculous tales. He’d always made you laugh—those moments had seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with the certainty that nothing would ever change.

But change it had.

Now, as you stood among the tulips, their bright faces tilted toward the sun, you felt as if you were the only one left in shadow. Each flower seemed to mock you, as if asking why you had come back when he was no longer here to share it with you. You could almost hear his laughter in the rustling leaves, a phantom sound that made your heart ache.

You allowed yourself one indulgent moment of memory, one small surrender to the warmth of the past. In that instant, you could almost feel his presence beside you, could almost hear him sigh as he lay back against the grass and urged you to do the same. Tulip, he’d called you once, likening you to the flowers here—delicate, bright, full of life. His voice drifted through your mind like a warm breeze, and you closed your eyes, feeling the bittersweet pang of loss settle deeper into your chest.

Then, a sudden sound cut through the quiet, and you froze. It was the low murmur of a familiar voice—Seokmin’s voice—wafting toward you from the entrance of the garden. You barely made out the words, some easy greeting exchanged with Minghao as the two approached. The cadence of his voice was softer now, more mature perhaps, but unmistakably his. In an instant, the fragile calm you’d managed to summon evaporated, replaced by a panicked urgency to flee.

You turned on your heel, lifting your skirts as you hurried toward a narrow, shaded path, heart pounding as if you were a trespasser in your own sanctuary. You slipped behind the thick ivy-covered trellis, your fingers clutching the delicate lace of your gloves as you pressed your back against the rough wood. There, hidden from sight, you held your breath, willing your heart to quiet, afraid he might hear it even from a distance.

He paused at the garden’s entrance, his voice carrying lightly on the breeze, mingling with the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. It was a voice you had known too well, one that had once woven a thousand dreams in these very gardens. But now, standing there alone and concealed, all you could feel was the sharp edge of those dreams turned to dust.

You dared not look, dared not even breathe until his voice faded and the crunch of gravel beneath his feet grew distant. Only then did you step out from your hiding place, the scene around you as unchanged and pristine as ever. But it felt different, achingly empty. He was gone, and so, you realized, was something inside you.

Your shoulders slumped as you turned away from the gardens, swallowing against the emotion lodged in your throat. You would not come here again—at least, not alone.

That first year passed slowly, the memory of him shadowing you at every event, every garden, every dance, leaving you both haunted and empty.

The Second Year: Autumn Age 20

As autumn arrived, the weight of that lost season faded slightly, turning to something colder, something sharper. You found yourself no longer seeking him out at every ball. Instead, you steeled yourself, donning an unapproachable mask that suited you better with each passing day. Your brother had chosen to spend the season traveling, claiming that the sea salt of Grecian air was calling him. The absence of his protection meant that you had to sail the rough shores of that season alone – Minghao’s letters were frequent and welcomed, always ready to provide words of assurance from thousands of miles away.

Your second season was to be markedly different—by your design and no one else’s. The naive enthusiasm of your first season had faded, replaced by a wariness that had hardened around you like a shell. Suitors still called upon you, though they were fewer and far between, and the gentlemen of impeccable standing, those your mother deemed suitable, grew distant with each passing event. They would approach with polite intentions, murmuring some pleasantry or another, only to bow and make haste to another part of the room where more receptive young ladies waited.

Yet, for all the polite avoidance and empty conversation, there was Lord Yoon Jeonghan, the Viscount of Hastings. He was different—not at all the cold and detached nobleman that society often produced, nor the vapid fop more concerned with his cufflinks than his conversation. He was witty, charming even, and his remarks would often spark a laugh that you could scarcely suppress. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time you spoke, as if you were unraveling a particularly delightful mystery, and for those brief moments, he made you almost forget.

Almost.

You felt his gaze often, lingering in the spaces between words, and sometimes, if you were honest with yourself, it was almost enough to ease the ache that had taken root in your chest. There was a certain warmth to his presence, a lightheartedness that let you slip free from the burdensome weight of the past. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his interest immediately. She seized upon his attentions with thinly veiled glee, her gaze often flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating. She would arrange you beside him at dinners, leave you in his company at the slightest opportunity, her encouragement subtle yet unmistakable.

Jeonghan would lean in close, his words laced with humor, often turning some mundane observation into something absurdly funny. And for a fleeting second, the laughter would come easily, a balm to the bruised and hidden parts of yourself. You allowed yourself to think, Maybe this could work.

But the quiet, hollow ache lingered, a constant reminder of the ghost you could not quite shake. And that ghost was Seokmin.

Seokmin, who watched from across the room, his gaze burning, perceptive as ever. He was polite, distant even, but his presence was always there, like the flicker of candlelight that neither dimmed nor died. You could feel it most keenly when you danced with other men, swirling across the floor to the strains of violins and cellos. Once, as you stepped onto the ballroom floor with Jeonghan, you felt Seokmin’s gaze settle on you from across the room. The intensity of it was enough to make your skin prickle, and suddenly you were painfully aware of every step, every turn.

The first misstep was subtle—a slight stumble over the Viscount’s foot. But as you met Seokmin’s eyes, his brow lifted ever so slightly, a smirk hovering just on the edge of his mouth. That subtle, amused expression set your pulse racing in a way you would never confess. And in your distracted state, you stumbled again, this time nearly losing your balance. Jeonghan chuckled, mistaking your lapse for some charming display of nervousness, too oblivious to realize the true reason for your faltering steps.

Seokmin’s gaze, however, saw straight through you. His smirk was knowing, almost taunting, as though he could see past every mask, every effort you’d put into your newfound resolve. It was maddening—the way he could still get under your skin, the way he seemed to enjoy watching you unravel, even if only for a second. The lingering effects of that look stayed with you long after the music ended, clinging to you like perfume.

And so, you spent the season caught between two worlds. Lord Yoon, with his charm and his lightheartedness, who could ease the bitterness that lay thick upon your heart if only for a while. And Seokmin, a relentless presence, haunting you from across every ballroom and garden, his gaze a tether you could never quite sever. It was a delicate dance, one you performed night after night, hoping, in vain, that one day you would not feel his eyes on you at all.

The afternoon sun angled low over the estate, bathing the drawing room in a cool October light that poured through the high windows, softening the sharp edges of the day. Minghao had just returned from his travels and had brought back a novel he thought you would enjoy—Jane Eyre, by a Miss Brontë. The air was thick with the quiet thrill of this gift, the promise of evenings spent lost in its pages, and you had just begun to express your excitement when Minghao, with his usual calm, announced that Seokmin had accompanied him.

You schooled your face to remain pleasant, though your pulse quickened at the mention of his name. And indeed, there he stood by the door, his posture polite yet tense, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes dark with some unreadable emotion. He offered a slight bow, his gaze fixed on you even as you looked firmly at your brother.

"Did you know," Minghao began, oblivious to the tension in the room as he handed you the book, "that the author published it under a man’s name? Some say it’s because she thought her work would be dismissed otherwise."

You managed a small smile, allowing yourself the momentary reprieve of this topic. “Thank you, Minghao,” you replied, fingers grazing the embossed cover. “I’ll cherish it. It sounds wonderful.”

Across the room, Seokmin shifted, clearing his throat. "Do you find time to read often these days?" His voice was tentative, a hint of hope or maybe familiarity clinging to the question, as if reaching for a bridge long burned.

Your reply was smooth and immediate, though you kept your gaze firmly on Minghao, as if Seokmin had merely been a ghost in the room. "I make time, yes. It’s quite necessary, given the, ah… limited options for conversation."

A faint hint of color rose to Seokmin’s cheeks, but he quickly smothered whatever response he had been about to make. Minghao glanced between you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he pieced together the simmering tension, the edges of a puzzle he hadn’t been around to see formed.

There was a brief pause, heavy as stones, before Seokmin tried again. "Do you still ride out to the southern fields? I remember…" He hesitated, his words trailing off before he finished. “The views from the hilltops there were always lovely in the fall.”

It was a simple question, a nod to a pastime you had once enjoyed, but the memories it evoked—the two of you racing across the meadows, laughing breathlessly under the open sky, sharing quiet moments on that hilltop he spoke of—all felt too sharp, too close. You tightened your grip on the book, the rough binding grounding you in the present.

"Occasionally," you murmured, as if speaking to no one in particular. Your tone was clipped, devoid of warmth, and you let the silence stretch, long enough for the weight of his words to fade. After a beat, you forced yourself to stand, smoothing the fabric of your dress as you prepared to excuse yourself. “Please, if you’ll excuse me.”

Seokmin’s face barely shifted, yet the flicker of disappointment that crossed his features was unmistakable. "Wait, please—" he began, his hand reaching out as if to stop you. “I… wanted to know if you might—”

You looked over at Minghao, not giving Seokmin the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. “Thank you for the book, brother,” you said softly. “I’ll look forward to discussing it with you when I’ve read it.” And with that, you turned, leaving the drawing room before Seokmin could finish his thought.

You could feel his eyes on your back, a silent, unyielding weight as you retreated, but you pushed down the churning emotions in your chest.

Later, your mother found you in the library, a faintly exasperated look in her eye. "What has possessed you to act so sharply towards Lord Lee? He is a friend of your brother’s, and a gentleman. I hardly think it was necessary to snub him quite so… thoroughly."

"I simply wasn’t inclined to entertain him," you replied, not lifting your gaze from the book you had barely managed to focus on since leaving the drawing room. “It was not my intention to be rude, Mother.”

She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “He asked after you very kindly. And if you cannot manage the simple courtesy of conversation, well…” Her sigh was laden with disappointment, tinged with the faintest trace of resignation. “It does make things rather difficult for you, don’t you think?”

You didn’t respond, clamping your lips shut and focusing on the words of Jane Eyre as if they might hold an escape. What could you say? That politeness was a currency you could not afford to spend on him? That every pleasantry only made the knife in your back twist a little deeper?

There was nothing to be done, and so you said nothing at all. The book lay heavy in your lap, unread, as your mother’s gaze lingered a moment longer, her silence more cutting than words.

The Third Year: Winter Age 21

The winter air nipped at every inch of bare skin as you stepped out of the carriage and into the towering, grand hall where that night’s ball was being held. Snow blanketed the world outside, a thick layer that muffled everything it touched, leaving only the crunch of footsteps and the soft murmur of the wind. The frost bit through your gloves, but it was nothing compared to the cold lodged deep within your chest. You drew yourself up and stepped into the hall, a practiced smile on your face as you greeted the hosts and exchanged pleasantries.

Inside, the ball was already in full swing. Laughter and music filled the air, weaving an intoxicating tapestry of distraction. You navigated through clusters of guests with practiced ease, inclining your head and making idle conversation that barely skimmed the surface. You had come to know the routines well, slipping into this role as though it were armor: a mask of charm, a shield of grace. It kept you safe, even as it kept others at arm’s length.

But then, just as you were making your way toward a friend by the window, you spotted him—Seokmin, across the room. He was surrounded by a small group of gentlemen, his laughter carrying over the din as he shared some amusing story. His cheeks were flushed from the warmth, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you’d once adored. For a moment, a whisper of memory drifted to you unbidden—those nights by the garden, his laughter mingling with the soft hum of summer crickets, a harmony you’d taken for granted. The sight of him now, seemingly unaffected by the hollow ache that had lodged itself so firmly within you, twisted something in your chest.

As though he could feel your gaze, his eyes turned toward you, catching you unprepared. His laughter faded, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, regret, perhaps. Or something more resigned, an acceptance of the chasm that had grown between you. He made no move toward you; there was only a slight nod, a silent acknowledgement of… something. You couldn’t name it, and you didn’t want to try.

It was his easy return to conversation that undid you. The way he turned back to his companions, laughing once more, as if nothing had changed, as if the years you’d spent trying to bury the echoes of that ball could be erased so simply. The laughter that once filled you with warmth now rang hollow in your ears, a reminder of all that was lost and all that could never be reclaimed.

The walls of the ballroom began to feel oppressive, the cloying warmth of bodies and perfume suffocating. You pressed a gloved hand to your temple, feigning discomfort as you turned to your nearest acquaintance. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well,” you murmured, a faint tremor in your voice that you hoped was undetectable.

“Oh, my dear, are you all right? You do look rather pale,” she said with concern, her eyes scanning your face. “Perhaps some fresh air?”

“Yes,” you managed, barely holding together the thin fabric of your composure. “Yes, that may be best.”

With a polite smile and promises to catch up at the next event, you drifted toward the doorway, slipping through the crowd as unobtrusively as you could. The cold air in the entry hall was a shock, but you welcomed it, letting it bite into your cheeks and ground you.

Soon enough, you found yourself in your room, finally alone. The silent darkness enveloped you, and for the first time that night, you let yourself drop the mask. You sank into the nearest armchair, clutching the armrests as if they could anchor you. Outside, snowflakes drifted lazily past the window, catching the moonlight like shards of glass. There was no warmth, no comfort in the scene, only the lingering shadows of a memory that refused to fade.

You had no energy to reach for a book, nor did you bother lighting the fireplace. Instead, you sat, letting the silence swell around you, filling the empty spaces that had been left in Seokmin’s wake. Your gaze lingered on the frost etching delicate patterns across the glass, and for a moment, you wondered if he was still at the ball, still laughing, still untouched by the winter that had settled so deep within you.

It felt almost foolish to mourn something you had lost so long ago, but as the hours slipped by, you couldn’t bring yourself to shake the feeling.

The bitterness reached new heights that year. Your relationship with Minghao, however, began to shift. He sensed your resolve, noticed the way you shrank from any mention of Seokmin, and quietly took up the role of your champion. He became your shield at social gatherings, a polite, steadfast presence whenever your mother hinted at your dwindling prospects or a suitor left you standing alone. Your mother’s eyes, ever watchful, lingered upon you with a barely hidden concern, her gaze darting to the eligible gentlemen nearby and then to you with that familiar, expectant look.

“You know,” she began in a low voice, “if you were only a touch more… approachable, it might encourage the young men here to consider you more seriously.”

You forced a small smile, the words heavy and stale from years of repetition. “I’ll do my best, Mama.”

But before she could respond, a familiar voice joined the conversation.

“Ah, I see my sister is charming everyone tonight,” Minghao remarked smoothly as he appeared beside you, offering a short bow to your mother. “May I borrow her for a moment?”

Your mother’s gaze softened—she had never worried over Minghao as she did with you, and his title afforded him some measure of leniency that you could never claim. She nodded, though her expression remained faintly expectant as she watched you both step away.

Minghao led you toward the edge of the ballroom, his arm steady around yours as you wove through the crowd. Once there, he turned to you with a look that spoke of both amusement and concern.

“You looked ready to flee,” he observed, a trace of a smile in his eyes. “Would you like a few minutes’ reprieve?”

You sighed, grateful for his intervention. “I was beginning to feel like a prized cow at market,” you replied, tone dry. “Thank you for sparing me.”

He chuckled softly, but his expression grew more serious as he studied you. “I noticed Mother watching you rather closely. And I know her remarks can be… persistent.”

“Persistent is a kind way of putting it,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper. “She insists that my chances dwindle each season, that—” You cut yourself off, pressing your lips together to hold back the frustration that threatened to spill over.

Minghao’s gaze softened, and he sighed, reaching out to adjust the lace of your cuff in a gentle, brotherly gesture. “You’ve nothing to prove to her or to anyone else here,” he said quietly. “If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll be here to see you through the night.”

Despite the stifling heat of the ballroom, his presence felt like a breath of fresh air—a lifeline against the unrelenting pressure of society and its expectations.

“And if any gentleman dares to turn his back on you tonight,” he added, his voice adopting a playful lilt, “I shall personally see to it that he regrets it.”

The corners of your mouth lifted into a small, appreciative smile. Minghao’s protectiveness was a comfort you rarely admitted to needing, but tonight, you couldn’t help feeling grateful that he saw past your composed exterior to the worry lingering beneath.

The music shifted to a slower waltz, and he extended his hand with a knowing smile. “Shall we dance, sister? A waltz is far more agreeable than enduring Mother’s lectures, I assure you.”

You accepted his hand, letting him lead you to the center of the room. As you twirled together, the swirling silks and laughter around you faded into the background, leaving only the familiar warmth of his presence.

After a moment, he leaned in, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “And for what it’s worth,” he murmured, “you have no need of any of these foppish gentlemen. They should consider themselves lucky if they could win even a passing glance from you.”

The sincerity in his words soothed you, and for a brief moment, the ballroom was no longer a daunting place, nor its occupants a source of anxiety. Minghao’s quiet strength steadied you, his steadfast support as dependable as the rhythm of the waltz beneath your feet.

Yet, even with Minghao’s silent support, Seokmin’s laughter ringing through the ballroom haunted you, echoing a reminder of what you once had and what you had lost.

Across the room, your gaze flickered to a familiar figure, the Lord Viscount Yoon, the lightness of his presence breaking through your somber thoughts. He had been different—his clever banter had a way of making even the most mundane topics feel lively and engaging. When he spoke, it was as if he was inviting you into an exclusive circle of shared secrets and laughter, making you momentarily forget the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

Even now, he stood amidst a group of gentlemen, engaging in light banter that sent ripples of laughter through the crowd. A flicker of intrigue would alight in his eyes every time he caught your gaze, but he looked away just as quickly, as if your newfound prickly attitude was enough to scare him away.

Over time, your disinterest had made him less willing to approach you. Though he had shown interest the previous year, the glow in his eyes now held a tinge of uncertainty, as if he had begun to doubt whether your heart remained open to him. Your mother, ever vigilant, noticed his hesitance, her gaze flickering between the two of you at gatherings, assessing, calculating.

“Perhaps if I were a bit more approachable,” you murmured to Minghao, who nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward Jeonghan.

“Sometimes, it takes more than just approachability,” he replied quietly. “He is a good man, but the more you withdraw, the more he may think he should step back.”

You let the thought linger in your mind, but it was soon drowned out by the sight of Seokmin across the room, leaning in to laugh politely with another woman, a vision of laughter and ease that made your heart twist painfully. The vibrant atmosphere of the ball blurred around you, filled with the laughter of others while your own heart sank, caught between the past and the possibility of a future—one you feared might never be yours again.

The Fourth Year: Spring Age 22

Spring came late that year, but the blossoms in the garden were the most vibrant you had ever seen. Tulips, bright and full of life, lined the path outside your drawing room window. Their sight brought an unwelcome reminder of Seokmin, as if they were mocking the pain that had dulled over the years but never truly healed.

One fateful morning, Seokmin arrived at the estate again, waiting for Minghao in the drawing room. You entered the room unaware of his presence, intending to retrieve a letter you had left on the table. The shock of finding him there, standing alone, was enough to root you to the spot.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and longing. “How have you been?” he asked, breaking the silence, his tone formal but softened by something more vulnerable.

“I try to stay busy,” you replied, refusing to meet his gaze, your own fixed on the tulips outside the window, as if they alone could fortify your resolve. The way they leaned toward the glass, reaching out, seemed a cruel reminder of what you could never reach. You clung to your indifference, fearing that one look at him would undo you.

“Ah,” he replied, his voice barely a murmur. “I see.”

The silence was unbearable, stretching long and wide between you, filled with all the words you had left unsaid. For the first time, you could sense his unease, as though he, too, felt the weight of everything that had come between you. You imagined he might say more, but instead, he fell silent, unwilling or unable to breach the chasm.

When Minghao finally entered the room, his gaze shifted from Seokmin to you, sensing the tension immediately. He offered a warm, lighthearted greeting that brought some relief, yet you felt exposed, as though Seokmin could still see every last flicker of pain beneath your carefully controlled exterior. Minghao’s easy conversation filled the room, and you seized on it as a lifeline, grateful that the moment had passed.

But as you left the drawing room, something inside you felt irrevocably changed. The wound you thought had healed now ached anew, as raw and fresh as ever.

Age 22

The season has turned again, and as you step into the grand ballroom, you are met with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that fill the air with an electric energy. The chandelier overhead sparkles like a constellation of stars, its crystal droplets refracting the warm glow of candlelight that dances across the room. The polished wooden floors gleam underfoot, reflecting the vivid hues of the gowns that swirl around you like petals caught in a gentle breeze.

After five seasons on the market, the whispers of society have cast you in the role of a spinster. No longer the young debutante brimming with promise, you now find yourself almost a chaperone to the eager, wide-eyed debutantes navigating their first seasons. Your newest charge, Sohee, is a whirlwind of youthful exuberance, her bright pink dress adorned with intricate floral appliqués that seem to bloom against her pale skin. The bodice sparkles with tiny beads, catching the light as she twirls, her laughter ringing like bells. You can see the nervous energy in her movements, the way her hands flutter as she points out various gentlemen across the ballroom.

“Oh, look at Lord Lee—what a fine dancer!” she exclaims, her voice bubbling with excitement as she gazes at Seokmin. His deep navy jacket contrasts sharply with the pristine white of his shirt, and the cravat around his neck is tied with an effortless elegance that only enhances his charm. The way he carries himself, relaxed and confident, seems to draw the attention of everyone around him.

You try to mask the bitterness rising within you as you observe him. Seokmin entertains Sohee’s infatuated chatter with polite smiles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. For a fleeting moment, you are grateful that she has captured his attention, but then the weight of your own feelings crashes over you like a cold wave. The ache in your chest deepens as memories flood your mind—long summers spent chasing fireflies, laughter echoing through the fields as he playfully pursued you with a worm on a stick, or the way he would reward your sharp tongue with that unguarded, carefree laughter.

As if drawn by some invisible thread, Seokmin’s gaze suddenly shifts, catching yours from across the room. Your heart leaps into your throat, a jolt of surprise and embarrassment coursing through you. Mortified that he has noticed your lingering stare, you quickly avert your eyes, but the warmth of your cheeks betrays you. You want to disappear into the vibrant crowd, to escape the intensity of your emotions that seem to swell with every passing second. Yet, even as you force yourself to engage with Sohee’s exuberant chatter, you can feel the weight of Seokmin’s gaze resting on you, a silent reminder of everything you’ve lost and the connection you once shared.

It is a cruel twist of fate, standing on the sidelines while young girls like Sohee chase the dreams you once held so dear. You find yourself in this role, a guide for the naive and hopeful, all the while wishing that you could feel that same thrill of possibility. The grand ballroom, alive with laughter and music, feels both enchanting and suffocating, each dance a reminder of the joys that have slipped through your fingers.

As the music swells and couples begin to sway across the polished floor, you catch glimpses of Sohee and Seokmin amidst the swirling gowns and dapper jackets. They move with an innocent delight that contrasts starkly with the weight of your unspoken feelings. Sohee beams up at him, her laughter bright and infectious, and for a moment, the sight softens the edges of your heartache.

Just then, you feel a presence beside you, and when you turn, you find Viscount Yoon Jeonghan standing there, a knowing smile dancing on his lips. His appearance is as striking as ever; his tailored coat hugs his frame perfectly, and the delicate embroidery along the cuffs catches the light, giving him an almost ethereal glow. His hair falls elegantly around his face, framing those sharp features that always seem to hold a hint of mischief.

“They make quite a pair, do they not?” he murmurs, his voice smooth and warm as he gestures subtly toward the young couple. His eyes sparkle with a mix of humor and curiosity, and for a moment, you’re reminded of the lighthearted conversations you once shared, the way he could lift your spirits without even trying.

You glance back at Sohee and Seokmin, your heart twisting at the sight of them. “It seems so,” you reply, your tone nonchalant, though the bitterness seeps through. “She is quite taken with him.”

Jeonghan’s gaze lingers on the two, but then shifts back to you, an amused glimmer in his eyes. “And yet, I believe it’s Seokmin’s charm that keeps her so enchanted. He has a way of making everyone feel special, does he not?” His words are light, but there’s an underlying sincerity that pulls you in.

“Especially the younger ones,” you add, your voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. You cross your arms, an instinctive barrier against the swell of emotions threatening to break free. Jeonghan tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes you self-conscious.

“Ah, but don’t let that dampen your spirits,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I suspect that there’s still magic left in your own waltz.”

You scoff softly, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I’ve had my dance, my Lord. It’s only right that I help guide the next generation.”

He nods, as if he understands more than you’ve revealed. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a little bit of the spotlight yourself, does it?” His gaze holds yours for a moment longer, an invitation hanging in the air between you.

Taking a deep breath, you accept his invitation with a gentle nod. Jeonghan extends his hand, and with a sense of determination, you place yours in his. The moment you step onto the dance floor, a familiar spark ignites between you. As you move, you find the rhythm of the waltz is an intoxicating escape from the weight of the evening.

His touch is confident yet gentle, guiding you with an ease that sends warmth through your veins. You laugh softly at his playful quips, the way he effortlessly spins you and twirls you beneath the glimmering chandelier. The surrounding laughter and chatter fade into a soft background hum as the two of you lose yourselves in the moment.

But just as you begin to forget the lingering ache in your heart, a commotion draws your attention away. You glance over to find Sohee in an animated conversation with Seokmin, her eyes wide with excitement. She appears to be swooning—her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink as she clutches her fan, fluttering it in the air as if to cool herself.

And then it happens. As the waltz concludes and the music reaches its crescendo, Seokmin leans down to retrieve Sohee's fan, which had slipped from her grasp in her flurry of emotion. The way he effortlessly picks it up and hands it back to her is undeniably charming. She gazes up at him with unrestrained adoration, and in that moment, it’s as if the entire ballroom falls silent, the air thick with their connection.

Your heart sinks, the joyous moment turning into a bitter reminder of your own unfulfilled longing. You feel the weight of your own feelings crashing down, suffocating the lightness of the dance you just shared with Jeonghan. The innocence of Sohee’s crush, her delight at Seokmin’s attention, stabs at something deep within you, twisting the knife of your heartache just a little deeper.

“Lord Lee is such a gentleman,” Sohee breathes, her eyes sparkling with admiration. You try to smile, but the corners of your mouth feel heavy, the happiness you should feel for her overshadowed by the ache in your chest.

“Quite the pair, indeed,” Jeonghan murmurs beside you, his tone shifting slightly. You glance up at him, but the amusement in his eyes has dimmed, replaced with a knowing sympathy that only intensifies your discomfort.

“I should—” you start, desperate to escape the scene unfolding before you, but Jeonghan catches your gaze, his expression serious yet gentle.

“Are you alright?” he asks quietly, concern lacing his voice.

You swallow hard, nodding even though you can feel the tears threatening to brim. “Yes, of course. It’s just… a reminder of what I’ve lost.”

Jeonghan’s eyes soften, understanding radiating from him. “Then let’s step outside for a moment, shall we? A breath of fresh air might do you good.”

You nod again, grateful for his presence, and together you slip away from the dancing couples, leaving behind the laughter and music, hoping the cool night air will ease the weight on your heart. As you step outside, the crisp night air envelops you like a silken shawl, drawing you away from the swirling gaiety of the ballroom. The coolness is a welcome reprieve from the warmth of bodies and laughter, and you relish the soft caress of the breeze against your skin, bringing with it a gentle rustling of leaves that whispers secrets from the garden. The scent of blooming jasmine and sweet honeysuckle mingles in the air, heady and intoxicating, wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace.

You move to the stone balcony, where the moon hangs low in the sky, its silvery glow spilling over the manicured gardens below, illuminating the delicate petals of the flowers that sway gently in the evening light. The grass is cool beneath your feet, a delightful contrast to the warmth of your silk gown, and you can feel the slight dampness of dew beginning to settle on the earth, a reminder of the approaching night.

Fidgeting with the lace hem of your gown, you feel the fabric whisper against your ankles, the soft silk cool to the touch. Your heart races as you catch sight of Jeonghan stepping out to join you, his tall frame silhouetted against the glow of the moonlight. He regards you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You love him,” he states matter-of-factly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” You turn to him, surprise etched across your features. Your fingers tighten around the delicate lace, twisting it nervously as if it could shield you from his piercing gaze.

“It is nothing to shy away from,” he continues, his tone surprisingly earnest. “I have observed the two of you for years, engaging in this delightful dance around each other. You love him. That is a fact. Do not shy away from it—love is a beautiful thing, even if it is tinged with loss.”

You force a laugh, the sound almost bitter. “You sound as though you speak from experience.”

“And if I am?” Jeonghan counters, his brow arching slightly, inviting you to delve deeper into the conversation.

“Why, then,” you reply, your heart racing with a mixture of intrigue and dread, “it cannot be that only my secrets are shared tonight.”

“Lady Choi,” he says, the shift in his tone unmistakable, as though he is unearthing a long-buried truth.

“The general’s wife?” you ask, the name escaping your lips with an air of disbelief.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, the lightness of the evening is overshadowed by the weight of his admission. “She was mine first,” he admits, his voice heavy with unspoken emotion. “But her father—he was a cruel man—wished to marry her off before I ever had the chance to court her properly, as adults.”

You draw a sharp breath, the air suddenly feeling thick and heavy around you. “Lord Yoon, it is a sin to desire another man’s wife,” you say softly, your fingers trembling slightly as they continue to play with the delicate fabric of your gown.

“And it is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours,” he replies, a note of melancholy creeping into his voice. “It seems we are both trapped in a most unfortunate dilemma, Miss Xu.”

You hesitate, the truth of his words resonating within you like the toll of a distant bell. You find yourself gazing at the garden below, the moonlight casting long shadows across the path. “I… suppose.”

His expression softens, the tension between you easing slightly as he steps closer, the distance shrinking as if the night conspires to bring you together. “I have an idea, if you are amenable to it,” he proposes, his voice low and conspiratorial.

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piquing despite the tumult of your thoughts. “I suppose I have no choice but to hear it.”

“Let us… have an arrangement of sorts.”

Your mind races, the absurdity of the suggestion both ludicrous and strangely enticing. “An… arrangement?” you repeat, incredulous, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“A loveless marriage is better than none at all,” he declares, his eyes glinting with a mixture of seriousness and mischief.

You laugh, unable to contain yourself. “You jest. Have you indulged in more champagne than you can manage?”

“I assure you, I am as clear-headed as the sky on a summer’s day,” he insists, maintaining eye contact with a steady gaze that makes your heart flutter. “We are friends, are we not?”

“Friends? My lord, we have danced a few times, to my mother’s delight,” you reply, a teasing lilt in your voice, though your heart feels heavier with the weight of his words.

He feigns a look of mock hurt, placing a hand theatrically over his heart. “You wound me! We have enjoyed such spirited conversations! I do consider you a friend. And a marriage with a friend—a viscount at that—is nothing to scoff at. Have you given no thought to your future? What happens when your dear brother finds a wife and you are no longer his primary concern?”

The reality of his words settles over you, sending a shiver down your spine. You search the moonlit path, pondering the path that lies ahead. “Just… think about it,” he presses, his voice earnest, the night seemingly holding its breath.

The silence stretches between you, the world around you fading as you consider the proposal. You raise your gaze to his, a flurry of emotions swirling in your heart.

But as the moment hangs in the air, he steps back, creating a chasm of space between you once more. The hope in his eyes flickers like the stars above, illuminating the path of unspoken possibilities.

With a lingering glance, Jeonghan turns to leave, the quiet night reclaiming its stillness. Alone now, you stand beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, a companion that seems to mock your predicament, its light dancing across your skin like a playful breeze. The weight of the evening settles around you, the possibilities of what could have been lingering like a sweet perfume in the air. The garden around you, fragrant and alive, seems to echo your turmoil, the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft chirping of crickets a reminder that you are not as alone as you feel—but still, the loneliness wraps around you like a heavy cloak, suffocating and inescapable.

The Queen’s Garden is even more stunning at twilight, an exquisite tapestry of flora bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun. Lanterns hang from the branches of ancient trees, casting a warm glow that mingles with the fading daylight, creating a magical ambiance that enchants every guest present. Lush greenery and blooming flowers adorn the paths, their fragrant scents—jasmine, roses, and honeysuckle—drifting through the air like a sweet serenade.

As you weave your way through the throngs of elegantly dressed nobles, the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth radiating from the lively crowd. The sounds of laughter and spirited conversation wrap around you, punctuated by the delicate notes of a string quartet nestled among the trees, their melodies intertwining with the soft rustle of leaves overhead.

Amidst the gaiety, you scan the faces around you, searching for Sohee. Her absence hangs like a whisper, pulling at your awareness.

Just then, your gaze lands on Lord Yoon Jeonghan, standing across the garden. His tall frame commands attention, and as you meet his eyes, he offers you a teasing wink, a smirk dancing on his lips. He raises his glass in a casual salute, a playful reminder of the “arrangement” he proposed only weeks prior.

But as you turn to continue your search, you hear a soft rustle behind the curtains of the powder room. A frown creases your brow, and with a sense of trepidation, you pull the curtains aside.

What you find steals the breath from your lungs: Sohee, her dress slightly askew, caught in an intimate embrace with Seokmin, hidden from view. Time seems to freeze as you process the scene before you, the vibrant colors of the garden fading into a blur.

They don’t notice your entrance, the warmth of their laughter drifting toward you, blissfully unaware of the precariousness of their moment. A wave of urgency washes over you; you step back, the laughter and music of the ball dimming behind you, overwhelmed by the tension in the air.

The cool mask of indifference you wear feels like a fragile façade, barely holding up against the storm of emotions roiling within you. Every heartbeat thunders in your ears, a rhythmic reminder of the tension crackling in the air. You force yourself to breathe slowly, deliberately, the sweet scent of blooming flowers mingling with the sharp tang of night air filling your lungs.

You clear your throat, breaking the stillness that envelops the hidden corner where Sohee and Seokmin stand. Your posture is straight, your chin lifted, but your palms feel clammy against the lace of your gown.

“Sohee,” you say, your voice steady and cool, as though dipped in ice, “you should return to your Mama. If anyone else had seen you like this, it would ruin you.” The words hang in the air, each syllable heavy with consequence. You hold her gaze, your eyes fierce, willing her to understand the gravity of the situation.

Sohee’s eyes widen, vulnerability flickering across her face like candlelight. The flush staining her cheeks deepens as she processes your words, a mixture of mortification and gratitude washing over her. She nods, biting her lip, and you watch as she slips past you, shoulders squared despite the embarrassment, grateful for your discretion.

Once she disappears back into the sea of guests, the atmosphere shifts. It’s just you and Seokmin now, the weight of the moment pressing down like a thick fog, the sounds of the ballroom fading into a dull roar. For the first time in years, you stand alone with him, the years of silence and distance palpable between you.

You turn to leave, the flutter of your gown trailing behind you, but his voice stops you, soft and tentative, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Please, don’t go.”

You whirl around, disbelief etched across your features. “Why on earth? What are you doing here?” Your heart pounds, and your fists clench at your sides, the intensity of the moment clawing at your composure.

He takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking, but the space feels charged with electricity. The use of that name—“tulip”—falls from his lips like a spark igniting a fire inside you. Anger bubbles to the surface, your fingers curling into fists. “You have no right to call me that anymore.”

His expression shifts, desperation creeping into his tone as he opens his palms, a gesture of vulnerability. “It’s been four years, and you still won’t give me the chance to explain myself.”

Your chest tightens at the memories, sharp and unyielding, a storm of emotions swirling within you. “So was it because Minghao told you to?”

His gaze darkens, the flicker of regret visible in his eyes. “Yes, but you need to—”

“Good evening, Seokmin.” The words slip from your mouth like ice, cold and final. You turn to leave, your back straight but your heart racing, and he reaches for you, fingers brushing against your arm like a whisper.

You jerk away, anger and hurt surging through you, the fabric of your dress catching in the air as you turn. “Please, stay,” he begs, his voice thick with emotion, almost desperate. “Stay and let me explain—”

You shake your head slowly, each word heavy with the weight of unspoken history. “You lost the right to that four years ago.” Your voice softens, but the resolve behind it remains, a quiet storm ready to break. In a flurry of lace and silk, you turn on your heel, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the thick grass as you leave him standing there, a distant silhouette against the vibrant backdrop of the garden.

The night air feels cooler as you weave through the crowd, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. You seek solace in the bustling ballroom, where laughter and music swirl around you, a cacophony that drowns out the echo of your heartache. The warmth of the candles flickers against your skin, the soft glow momentarily comforting amidst the chaos.

The crowd shifts around you, a blur of color and laughter, but everything feels muted—distant—as you navigate back toward the main hall. Your heart still pounds, each beat a reminder of the encounter that lingers, bitter as smoke. And then, across the room, a familiar pair of eyes finds yours: Jeonghan. His gaze is intent, assessing, and as he raises his glass to you with an amused smirk, his words from weeks before echo in your mind: “It is a sin to pine after what cannot be yours.”

The decision is instant, unbidden, like the snap of a thread pulled too tight. Steeling yourself, you weave through the crowd toward him, your mind clearing with each step. Jeonghan turns slightly as you approach, his attention shifting from the men he’d been conversing with. You stop just a breath away, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you, even as laughter and chatter fill the air.

“My lord,” you say, voice steady as a blade.

He raises an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, Miss Xu?” His eyes gleam in the low light, the gold of the candle flames reflecting in them. “I must say, you look rather lovely in this garden.”

“Yes.” The word is simple, yet it feels like a vow, a quiet certainty.

His smile falters for just a second, replaced by a glimmer of surprise in his eyes before he quickly recovers. He leans in slightly, his voice softened but no less intent.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice calm but resolute. “I shall marry you.”

Jeonghan’s expression settles into something unreadable, a flicker of surprise replaced by the slightest tilt of a smile. He inclines his head, the elegant motion drawing him closer, as though sealing the moment between you.

“A wise decision, Miss Xu,” he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. The sounds of the garden around you blur into silence, the perfume of roses and night-blooming jasmine heavy on the air, and though the world presses on with its merriment, this quiet promise, made in the hush of the queen’s garden, feels irrevocable.

Tagging: @kibs-and-bits@moondustmemories@shinwonderful@ivehypnosis@gwend0lyne@thestoryofana13@mellowamour@blissedjoon@begentlewithme-please @xabsolutelynothingx @reiofsuns2001 @mngyulvrs @mooniewrld @archivistworld @lexyraeworld @ateez-atiny380 @walkinganxiety01 @lovecleastrange @uriguyeok @nenojaems @carefully325 @meowmeowminnie @ts19009 @flickhurstyles

#seventeen fic recs #lee seokmin x reader

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