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meganegatari · 31 minutes ago

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its been so long and i am so sorry omg…i meant to gush over this properly right when you posted it but MY BRAIN. anyway now it is time.

well, to start, lyss, you are a worldwide national universe-wide treasure in every single way. i could go on and on and on about how much i adore you as a person and your entire existence, but we would break the tumblr word limit if it even exists, three times over. i am here to gush about your writing. i look up to you as a writer so, so much, everything you present reads so silky smooth— it is a DELIGHT. you're able to weave in absolutely stunning prose with stellar characterization of our silly girl, with the most delicately handled and well thought out plot i have ever seen. you really have a gift, and i am not just saying that…you know me and my hater ways <3

i love everything you do, but this fic in particular is SUCHHH a treat. im so glad to see you presenting us with some longer content, and im sure everyone else feels the same!! whenever you ask me…lil ole ME…for some kind of writing advice…bae honored is an understatement. you have such a skill for writing, like better than a lot of published authors i read (and i have read A LOTTTT) i wanna see you keep pushing!! i adore this fic so much. it is just the right amounts of silly, and sexy, and a really really fun time. i adore your introductions, you set the scene so well and paint the most vivid, gorgeous picture in readers minds UGH IT MAKES ME EMOSH….from when you sprouted this idea, to when u showed me the layout and the drafts and released it into the world…omg you ate so hard. thank goodness for modern glasses technology so my blind ass is able to witness this....

“you told yourself it was a coincidence, how often your visits lined up with her shift. you weren’t memorizing her schedule—god, no. you just… noticed a pattern. for advice purposes. obviously. she had the best advice.

and i love this part. your writers voice is so clear and you have so much character when you give us these beautiful stories I CANT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE IT AND EVERYTHING YOU CREATE. the feeling is so prominent and it oozes passion for the hobby and the character, bravo.

while the trial and error of gardening took up most of your time, another thorn lodged itself in your side—this one not literal.

and this too like…your brain???? you always think of the most clever little touches to add, i will never not be obsessed. and how you followed it up with a description that isnt anything but flawless….like you suck readers in so good !!!!!

she must have witnessed you struggling in your yard at least a dozen times by now. the tips. the encouragement. her uncanny ability to know exactly what should go where. the conveniently timed suggestions that always hit just right. and not once had she mentioned she lived next door? diabolical, honestly.

AND LIKE HOW YOU ALWAYS ACE HER HEHEHEHAFK. in a sea of mischaracterizaion, i thank you for your faithfulness because everything you write is so so so SO painfully ellie, you might as well be writing the new canon. beyond stellar. everyone gotta take notes.

ellie looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. and then—she grinned. of course she grinned, like she hadn’t just upended your entire understanding of reality. like you weren’t standing there, tin of cookies in hand, suddenly feeling ridiculous, and very underprepared for whatever this was.

THIS BIT ALWAYS MAKES ME GIGGLE WHENEVER I COME BACK TO IT PLEASE. what a ridiculous goofy goober omg i can see that signature stupid smile of hers THAT DORK ISTG and just before that…how you described her working…oh i am drooling. oh suddenly my phone disappeared…have you seen it? LIKE GODDAMNASDAKSLKDL you seriously write sex appeal and tension so so well istg you could write about…idk a banister a railing and id be creaming my pants BUT THAT IS BESIDES THE POINT your writing is immaculate whatever genre you dabble in.

your role is mainly reduced to handing her tools and keeping her hydrated. water swiftly proves to be necessary as ellie worked diligently, showing off her mastery, the early morning sun rises to a brighter, more oppressive, sweltering heat. you try stepping in to help a few times, but the firm swats from ellie’s palm—quick, pointed, and slightly amused—make it clear she’s not about to let you much of the heavy lifting.

and i love this part because especially the last bit showcases how well you handle flow. it is so natural, the cadence omg. your writing reads like a dance— like a ballet even, every word chosen exactly to convey and fit in with the others like the very last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. and the rest well…..

okok i need to stop myself before i go crazy, but GODSSSSSS. this is stellar, everything you do is a blessing to this mess of a fandom and i beg of you to never deprive us of your gift, okay? you add so so much, both as a mere presence in this space AND as a creator, to lose that would be so terrible. you are amazing. the most talented, genius person ever, and i am absolutely so grateful i get to write for this little ginger loser with you, but even more so to know you as a person. cant wait to see what you write next <33333

marigold crush

gardener ellie!au. what you thought would kick off a petty neighborhood feud ends up turning into something a whole lot hotter than the summer sun above. the reason? it starts with ellie, the cute employee at the garden center—who knows a thing or two about getting her hands dirty. thank you to my @meganegatari for providing input and proofing as always <3

wc 3.1k minors dni - making out, dirty talk, fingering (r!receiving)

with summer rapidly creeping up, you set your sights on a new project—upgrading your gardening skills. it sounded simple enough at first. plant a few things, water them, watch them grow. oh, how wrong you were. you realized, much too late, how surprisingly demanding it all was. soil types, lawn maintenance, what plants thrived where, which ones were perennials, how to keep them alive with proper care like watering, pruning, and mulching. before long, you were making an embarrassing number of trips to the nearby garden center.

not that it had anything to do with the pretty employee who was always ready with a new tip just when you needed one.

miss ellie—as per her name tag—carried herself professionally, politely enough. always eager to explain answers, she sometimes skipped over beginners’ tricks, then circled back to catch you up. everything she suggested, though, ended up helping immensely. you liked that. she was sweet.

you told yourself it was a coincidence, how often your visits lined up with her shift. you weren’t memorizing her schedule—god, no. you just… noticed a pattern. for advice purposes. obviously. she had the best advice.

while the trial and error of gardening took up most of your time, another thorn lodged itself in your side—this one not literal. your newish neighbor had apparently taken up the same hobby, and, enragingly, their results far outshone yours. how was everything so lively? why were their perennials already blooming? their yard looked freshly trimmed and popping with color every single day. yours, a work in progress, wilted a little more every time you glanced at the progress next door. you couldn’t help but sulk from time to time. it was starting to feel personal.

a part of you really wanted to give your neighbor a piece of your mind. in your opinion, there was absolutely no way they weren’t doing this on purpose. ever since they moved in just under a year ago, it had been the same infuriating pattern—everything you did, they somehow managed to do ten times better. halloween decorations, holiday lights, even their progressive political flags had wittier slogans than yours. and the worst part? you’d never even seen them. not once. this silent gardening supremacy—that you weren’t even sure they knew was a competition—was the final straw. how they pulled it off while staying completely out of sight was beyond you.

granted, your competitive streak might’ve been clouding your better judgment, and you were, admittedly, acting a little unhinged—but you had to know their secret. you had to meet them, to understand the method behind the madness of their picture-perfect flower beds.

so, in a move wholly unlike you, you got up early one sunny morning and baked cookies. warm from the oven, stacked neatly in a sewing tin—just a friendly, xenial gesture. no ulterior motives. none at all.

you step out your front door, ready to march up their porch and put an end to the mystery once and for all—only to freeze in place.

imagine the shock when there, in the garden next door, kneeling in the dirt with gloved hands and a quiet hum under her breath, was the very same ginger woman who had been giving you advice all summer.

ellie.

suddenly, it felt really personal.

diabolical, honestly. ellie was gradually unfurling under the strain of the heat and her work, of course. her white tank top, drenched in sweat, clung to her like a second skin. she tugged at the fabric to fan herself off. her flushed, freckled skin glistened under the early morning rays, and her auburn hair was plastered to the back of her neck. your gaze shifted to her arms—tense, fit, and tattooed—then to her hands skillfully handling the tools.

“you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you huffed, louder than intended, managing to reach her ears.

“well, hey there, neighbor.” she greets you far too warm, too chipper.

you stared at her. “you live next door?”

“mm-hmm,” she said, standing up slowly to stretch out her legs and dusting her earth-covered hands off on her thighs. “for, like, ten months now. give or take.”

you glance down at the sewing box of cookies in your hand. despite ellie’s state—sweating, smudged with dirt—you hold it out for her.

“a welcome gift,” you offer. “just… ten months late. give or take.”

ellie breaths a laugh and takes the box, peeking inside, nodding in approval.

“damn. look at you. thanks,” she mutters, setting it down on a nearby plastic chair cluttered with gardening tools. your eyes flicker between your sad little yard and her perfectly maintained one.

“did… did you know? all this time? when i came in to ask questions?”

“yep,” ellie says, totally unfazed, hands settling on her hips. “it was kinda cute, watching you take my advice and, y’know… try it out.” she pauses, then adds to soften the blow, “i thought about coming over a few times. offering a hand. but you looked so determined, hacking away at weeds, replanting flowers i suggested, i didn’t want to interrupt...” she trailed off.

you blinked, trying to recalibrate. “that’s okay, i just… wow.”

ellie notices your stupor and an idea comes to mind. “well. since you’re already here—i was about to head to the shed. wanna stick around? i could show you a few things. if you’re cool with that.” then, teasing, “no charge. this time. cookies count though.”

you find yourself trailing after her into the backyard—just as immaculate as the front—to a small shed tucked in the far corner of the lot. it doesn’t look like much from the outside, but inside, it’s packed chock-full with every gardening item you could imagine, from seed packets, terracotta pots, and shelves lined with tools. half of them, you didn’t even recognize, which only made the sting of your amateurity more potent.

thankfully, ellie’s easygoing explanations help ease the mood. she’s showing off her tools, fertilizers, and offering tips, and you’re taken aback by seeing her in this new light. she was always cute, which is why you’d kept timing your visits to the garden center a little too well. but this? watching her work in the summer heat, flushed and confident, completely in her element—it ignited something new in you. here you were, ready to start a petty squabble with your new neighbor, but instead, your stomach was full of butterflies. ellie added a few well-loved, indiscernible tools to a bag, slung it over her freckled shoulder, and ushered you outside before closing the shed door behind her.

“alright, so. show me the damage,” she said, jerking her chin toward your yard.

“my what?” “your flower bed,” she called over her shoulder, already walking ahead. “gotta check if you actually listened to me.” before you can say anything, ellie’s already knee-deep in your garden, pulling up the weeds you missed and fixing the patches where your mulch is spread too thin. you’re not sure what hits harder—the embarrassment from the sheer number of mistakes she’s quietly correcting, or the way her initiative turns you on.

still, she doesn’t treat you like a helpless maiden. eventually, she has you kneeling beside her, guiding your hands, her calloused fingers splayed atop of your own, instructing you through the same techniques she’s spent the season explaining in passing. her voice is low, sure, and steady beside you, her skin warm where it brushes yours under the sun.

she starts with the marigolds, helping you replant them first—their vibrant yellows and oranges thriving in this full-sun corner. from there, it’s onto the petunias, where she fusses over spacing, then the dusty miller and the salvia. her encouragement is doing the opposite of helping. you try to stay focused, to press the soil like she showed you, but your thoughts keep drifting to the feel of her hand on yours.

"no—don’t just pat it down like that, you need to press a little firmer with the trowel. yeah, like this." she shifts closer, her hand curling over yours, both of you bent low over the bed of marigolds. you can feel her breath at your temple, her voice gone a little quieter, more raspy now. "there you go. knew you had it in you."

her sheer determination shouldn’t affect you the way it does, but damn. the moment your thoughts start lingering on the idea of licking the brine off her neck, you know you desperately need to cool off—literally and figuratively. it only gets worse when her hand holds the small of your back for half a moment too long, steadying you as you dug further into the soil. the simple touch sent a shiver through you, making your pulse race. it wasn’t just the heat anymore. did she know what she was doing? there was no way ellie wasn’t this self-aware. given she had let you try and fail at this garden all summer, she was probably more aware of her actions than you could easily wrap your brain around.

the rest of the adjustments come together quickly after that, both of you worn out and damp with sweat, but working in sync. at long last, ellie straightens up with a groan, wiping her glossy brow, appraising your now vastly-improved flower bed with lazy pride. “muchhhh better,” her eyes glint with approval, tossing the trowel practically molded to her hand aside. then she stretches, slow and unbothered, muscled arms rising overhead until they’re drawn taut, her off-white tank lifting just enough to entice your most lewd thoughts into wanting to see more. then she runs a hand through her damp, disheveled auburnette hair, leaving it even more a mess. “may i ask the lady for a drink? and a chance to wash up a bit?” your yes is obvious. you leave your tools just as they are on the ground and motion for ellie to follow you inside. of course she needs a rest, probably dying of thirst—though you’re probably the thirstier one in that moment.

the space is filled with the sound of the rush of crisp water and the clink of glasses as you both scrub dirt off and pour drinks. ellie mutters a soft thanks, taking hers after drying her hands on a dish towel.

she looks hot here. out of place, certainly—sun-streaked and a perspiry mess in your nearly spotless kitchen. but it only makes you want the cute gardener turned hot nuisance of a neighbor-turned... whatever this is... even more.

you swallow your nerves, chasing them with another sip of water.

“you know, i always thought you were cute,” you tease, eyes flicking to hers. “ever since you helped me pick out my first supplies.” you reflect like you’re feeling nostalgic, though you’re definitely up to something.

“yeah?” ellie quirks a brow. she’s smart, knowing exactly what you’re doing. the cute, tentative girl from the garden shop was gone- this was someone confident in every move. her voice dips low, eyes narrowing with a flirtsome gleam. “you still think i’m just cute now?”

“well,” you murmur, voice low, a little shaky, trying to match her coy pitch, “i wouldn’t say just cute.”

she tilts her head, flashing a zealous, lopsided grin. “i’ve got a lot more i could show you. with my hands. can i?”

when she then takes a step closer—your heart seizes.

was this really happening? were you about to get fucked into next week by the cute gardener turned next-door neighbor? your mind races a million miles a minute, the whole scenario unraveling like a scene straight from fanfiction.

well, you were right! just like that, ellie closes the space between you, her hand sliding around your waist as she nudges you back against the cool, angular side of the kitchen island.

the marble presses against your lower back, forcing a half-giggle, half-stunned, shaky exhale from your lungs. you realize you’re probably not hiding the gleeful expression on your face as well as you thought, especially given the cheesy grin the hot dork returns.

her roughened hands trail along your jawline, the juxtaposition of her tough-feeling skin with the most gentle gesture makes you feel woozy. “you know,” she murmurs, voice low and almost amused, “i thought about you a lot. the clueless girl always showing up on my shift, asking the kinda questions you knew i’d love answering.”

your face warms, and ellie clicks her tongue, clearly satisfied. “and here's the thing. i didn’t mind. kinda liked knowing you’d come find me.” she pauses, smirking as a vexing fire ignites behind her eyes. then she adds, “figured you’d eventually need help with the yard. saw you out there, all hot and frustrated trying to figure it out on your own. guess i was right, huh?”

the reminiscent teasing is cut short when her lips connect with your own, tossing the last of your inhibitions aside and letting blind instinct take over. all nerves melt, and your mind goes blank as her teeth catch your bottom lip and tug. you grab at her waist, hands sliding up to her ribcage — one curling into a fistful of her auburn hair, the other slipping beneath her dirtied tank top to caress the warm skin at her side.

time ceases to matter. all you feel is her hands, fervid and searching, and her hot, wet mouth moving against yours — heaven. the soft, immodest moans she lets slip only pull you deeper in. ellie traces your lips with her tongue, coaxing them open, chasing breathless sounds from you. the kiss is messy, to say the least. your front teeth collide with hers, noses bumping, spit dribbling down both your chins— it was clear she wanted you just as much as you wanted her. the waiting paid off.

but, you feel a pause, and then loss of contact.“fuck i—” ellie huffs. she's breathless, her voice scratchy with need. the voracity at which she pulls away, breaking the fragile strands of spit that webbed across your mouths— it concerns you.

you open your mouth to inquire, but she cuts you off by grabbing your hips with her muscled hands, and fleetly turns you around so you're facing away from her, and are bent over the counter. its hard surface is chill to the touch- your only reprieve from the heat between you two.

your mind practically short-circuits. even though she isn't too forceful, the motion still makes you yelp. you want this, no— you crave it, and ellie’s animalistic side takes over, leaning over you with her front pressed flush against your back, one hand perfecting the arch of your back and then finding purchase at your waist. she starts shamelessly sucking purpled marks into the side of your neck and rutting her pelvis against the swell of your ass. pushing your hair further to the side, she bites down on your skin and soothes with her tongue, the acts sending goosebumps all over you.

you were completely at her mercy, no thoughts occupying your head other than everything about her: her voice, her touch— you couldn't get enough. “ellie,” you moan her name, and she damn near purrs into your ear. you brace yourself against the cool surface, clinging onto it for respite, grounding yourself to keep steady as your legs grow weak.

her right hand is pawing all over you, stopping to fondle your clothed breast, then snaking down your stomach and into your pants. hooking your panties aside, ellie lets out an unholy sigh at how wet you already are.

her greedy fingers graze your slit, then begin steadily circling your clit as you mewl. ellie groans like she can feel it herself. her voice breaks, but she mutters against the nape of your neck, “fuck, damn baby. all this f'me?”

you weren't going to last, all the build up was about to bubble over momentarily. but you had to try, because it was all too good to end so soon.

descending further, she pushes her two middle digits inside your eager, sopping hole, curling as she fucked into you, your body gradually rising like a crescendo to a dizzying peak. “come on, cum for me,” ellie encourages, her free hand reaching out and landing on top of yours to share in your pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. she soothes you with a placid squeeze, a silent reminder she's got you. the pressure in your lower abdomen builds, until one last thrust sends you spilling ecstasy all over her fingers. she helps you ride it out, lightly rubbing your twitching clit and mumbling praises all the while. as your body shudders, ellie’s rutting against your ass slows, mirroring your panting and humming some encouragement.

upon coming down from the buzz, you rest your forehead on the counter's surface, trembling whimpers leaving your fucked-out form. the fingers just inside you meet ellie’s lips, tasting you on her like you’re something ambrosial, already addicted to your essence. her hands then run over your form in calming passes as you fully return to reality. “you know…” after some comfortable silence she starts, voice smug, “this could’ve happened a lot sooner—if you’d just said something instead of memorizing my whole damn work schedule.”

“oh, shut up,” you manage, still catching your breath, but content nonetheless.

ellie grins, brushing her thumb along your cheek. “what? i mean it. you're sweeter than anything i’ve ever grown.”

#𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

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jaeminify · 3 days ago

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incognito mode ☆ mark lee.

synopsis ☆ keeping secrets was not the easiest thing to do for mark lee, especially when it meant lying to his best friend. but you seemed to be a secret worth keeping.

warning(s) ☆ daddy kink, car sex, secret relationship, dry humping/grinding.

author's note. not one of my best works but i wanted to post something so my account doesn't die LOL. quick one shot of mark <3 i have 47 drafts that im working on but only 2 are halfway/almost finished with being written. hopefully i post some of them cause i truly want to post them but life has been getting in the way and my creativity juice is just withering... anyway, hope everyone likes this one! likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

"Dude, where are you? You're late."

"F— Shit. Yo, my bad I-I—" Mark hisses, trying his best to keep his voice levelled. "I'm driving, I'll be there in twenty."

A lie. The drive down to Jeno's house would only take ten minutes max. But, Mark had different priorities and right now, Jeno's housewarming party was not one of them.

"Baby, you've got to stop doing that when I'm on the phone. Especially when I'm talking to your brother," Mark's words are mumbled against the skin of your cheek, making you giggle from how ticklish it felt.

Mark wasn't lying when he said he was driving, he just forgot to mention that he was parked in an empty carpark on the side of the road with you on his lap. You were too enticing. This little game of back and forth began way before Mark got dressed and invited you to be his plus one to the party.

Nobody would know you were his plus one, of course. To Jeno, you were just getting a ride from his best friend, and a ride you were definitely getting.

"Sorry," You giggle, obviously not sorry about it. "You just look really hot tonight, I like it when you dress up." Mark dresses the same everyday, it's casual smart always, but it's him in the outfit that makes you turned on. He just always looks really good.

"I'm wearing what I always wear," He chuckles when you start kissing his neck. He tilts his head up so you get better access. "You're clingy tonight."

You pull away and shake your head, sliding your hands up and down his chest.

"Just want you. Missed you." You say, and Mark pulls you in for heated, passionate kiss that pushes any thought you had out of your head.

Kissing Mark was your favourite pastime. It couldn't be counted as a hobby but in your world, it definitely was and it was addicting. Mark kisses like he's pouring all his feelings into one kiss, but it never gets too much. It's always just enough to have you wanting more.

"Okay— shit, Y/N, we really have to get going."

"Want you first," You say, deciding that you cannot go to this party with Mark without having him fuck you in his car. Not when you want him so much.

"Yeah?" He grins, the worried look on his face gone as if it was never there in the first place.

His hands massage your waist then slide downwards, massaging your butt in the miniskirt you wore tonight. Your hips react like they've got a mind on their own, grinding harder against his pants, whining when he thrusts against your core.

"So needy just for me..." He exhales, peppering kisses onto your cheeks, neck and collarbone. "Ain't that right, sweet girl?"

"Only you Mark," You nod your head, your eyes are glazed and it's obvious to him and you that you're far too gone and can only think of him.

"Can't let my baby suffer, can I?" He tuts, lifting his hips up to slide his pants down, helping you pull your skirt up. "Think you're ready for me baby?" He's taunting you at this point, knowing he could feel how wet you were but wanting to hear you say it.

You shake your head furiously, "Want you. Need you, now... Please..." You whine, running your hand through his hair the way he likes it.

"Don't worry darling, Daddy's gonna take care of you." He murmurs against your ear before sliding his thick cock into you, loving the way you feel.

#mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee one shot #nct smut #nct one shot #nct dream smut #mark lee scenario #mark lee hard thoughts #nct hard thoughts #mark lee imagines

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passionfruitchris · 9 hours ago

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BRUISED AND BARE

pairing: hockey!chris x reader

warnings: dom/sub reversal, mild injury aftermath, praise kink, desperation, overstimulation, dirty talk, orgasm control, begging, rough language

summary: after a brutal game and a rough fight, chris comes home sore, bruised, and angry he can’t treat you like he usually would — so you decide to give him everything without making him move an inch. | wc: 1.8k

he didn’t knock. he never did after games like that.

the door creaked open and shut with a force that told you everything before you even turned around. the game had been rough. you’d seen the way his gloves flew off mid-ice, the fight that followed — brutal, furious, and long enough to make the announcers fall silent. and now, there he was. In the doorway. one eye darkening at the socket. his bottom lip split. shoulders hunched like every muscle in his body was burning.

he looked wrecked. and he was still looking at you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

"baby" you breathed, already halfway across the room. "Jesus—"

"don’t," he said, voice low and hoarse, like it hurt to talk. "don’t give me that look."

you stopped in front of him close enough to feel the heat still coming off him. the adrenaline hadn’t faded yet. his hoodie clung to his back, damp with sweat, and when you reached to touch his arm, he flinched—not from you, but from the soreness beneath your fingers. you saw it then. the tension in his neck. the way he was fighting the pain. and the heat in his eyes that hadn’t cooled one bit.

"i’m not mad," you whispered. "i just—fuck, chris, you’re covered in bruises."

he didn’t answer. just dropped his bag, kicked the door shut behind him, and stared at you like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to collapse or crawl inside your skin.

you reached for his hoodie zipper, tugging it down slowly. “let me take care of you.”

but his hand caught yours and you gasped softly when you saw the way his knuckles looked. purple. swollen. split in a place that looked dangerously close to needing stitches. he didn’t let go. that hand slid up your chest, then over your breast, slow but deliberate, and the rasp in his voice when he spoke next nearly cracked your knees.

“i need you s'bad, sweetheart,” he murmured. “please.”

you stilled under his palm, fingers curling around his wrist gently. “chris… not right now. do you even realize how bad of shape you’re in?”

his jaw clenched. his eyes dropped, not in shame — in frustration. he was still so worked up, twitching with energy that had nowhere to go, and you could see it plain as day: he wasn’t asking to fuck. he was asking to feel better. the only way he knew how. the only way that ever really worked.

"it’ll help," he said, voice lower now, breaking. "let me feel you. just—please, baby. i can't—"

he didn’t finish the sentence. didn’t have to. you saw it in the way he held himself - like his whole body was about to snap. yu exhaled slowly, then brought your hands up to cup his jaw, thumbs brushing the edges of his cheekbones.

"okay," you whispered. "but you're not doing anything tonight. i’ll do the work. you just lie back."

chris opened his mouth to argue — you saw it on his face — but then he closed it. swallowed hard. nodded once.

and let you lead him to the couch.

you straddled him slowly, carefully, taking in every inch of exposed skin as you peeled his hoodie off, then his undershirt. he hissed when you touched his ribs, and you bit back the instinct to scold him again. his body was a canvas of ache — bruises on his chest, shoulder, one already darkening across his hip. he winced when he sat back against the cushions, legs spread, his hands resting helplessly at his sides.

"you good?" you asked softly, already sliding your shorts off. he watched every movement, like it hurt to look away.

"yeah," he whispered. then added, “you look so fuckin’ pretty like that.”

you climbed into his lap, bare thighs over his sweats, his bulge pressing up against you hot and solid. he inhaled through his nose when you reached between you and slid him free — his cock already heavy, flushed, desperate for touch. he was rock hard, even though his shoulders trembled with restraint.

“you’re gonna let me take care of you,” you murmured, guiding him to your entrance. “just stay still, christopher. let me.”

he gritted his teeth when you sank down — slow, deliberate, taking him inch by inch until you were fully seated in his lap, pressed so deep it felt like you couldn’t breathe. his head fell back against the couch. sis fists clenched at his sides. you leaned in, kissed his jaw.

“you’re so deep, baby,” you whispered. “you feel so good.”

his breath stuttered one of those low, shaking exhales that came from deep in his chest — and when you started to move, he groaned, long and drawn out, hips twitching like he wanted to meet your pace.

but you caught his mouth with your finger - soft, deliberate — and pressed it to his lips.

“shhh” you said. “i’ve got it. you don’t need to do anything.”

he whimpered. whimpered. and let his hips go still.

you rocked your hips, slow and deep, palms pressed flat to his chest, feeling the way his breaths rattled beneath your touch. his eyes never left yours. even as his body started to tremble, even as he choked on the urge to take over, his gaze stayed locked on your face — like watching you fall apart above him was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

“fucking hell,” he rasped, hands tightening on the cushions. “look at you. you ride me so good. so fucking perfect, baby.”

you moaned, rolling your hips again, feeling the way he pulsed inside you. he was close already — from the fight, the adrenaline, the pain — but he was holding on with everything he had. his voice was rough, cracked in the back of his throat.

“keep going,” he begged. “don’t stop. wanna feel you come, baby, please—fuck—”

you smiled, breathless, and picked up the pace, hips grinding, rhythm steady. his chest tensed under your hands, his mouth open in a gasp he couldn’t finish. and still, all he could do was watch.

and praise.

he was shaking.

not violently. not enough to stop you. but under your hands, his body trembled — shoulders twitching, thighs locked in place, chest rising fast with each breath as you rode him slow and steady, giving him everything without asking for a thing in return. It was killing him in the best way. you could see it in his face, in the tightness around his mouth, in the way his eyes kept falling shut like he was overwhelmed but couldn’t dare miss a second.

his bruises had turned his skin into a canvas of color — purples and deep reds stretching across his ribs his stomach tight from the effort of holding still. his hands stayed clenched into the couch cushions beside his thighs, exactly where you’d told him to keep them. he didn’t try to take control. mot again. but he looked like he was dying to.

“you’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, leaning over him, your palms flat against his chest. you felt every stutter in his breath. every tremble. “you’re being so good for me. i know it’s hard.”

chris gritted his teeth. his head tilted back against the couch again, throat exposed, jaw tight. “f-fuck,” he groaned. “you’re so fucking tight. unreal”

you rolled your hips again, grinding deep, slow, angling yourself just right — and his whole body twitched like it wanted to thrust up into you. but he didn’t. you saw the effort it took in his eyes. he was holding it in for you.

he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a low, helpless moan. his hands flexed uselessly on the cushion.

“you wanna move, don’t you?” you asked softly.

he gave a broken laugh. “you have no fuckin’ idea.”

you leaned in closer, brushing your nose against his, your pace still unrelenting — perfect, even, cruel in how good it felt. “and what did i say?”

chris’s voice cracked. “said to let you do the work.”

“and are you gonna?”

he nodded. then, shamefully, “tryin’ so hard, baby. please, please don’t stop. don’t stop.”

you picked up the rhythm just a bit — a little faster, a little filthier — and his body shook like it was unraveling beneath you. you could feel how close he was, the way his cock twitched inside you, the desperate sounds he was trying to swallow. his head rolled against the couch, jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

“i’m close,” he gasped. “shit—shit, i’m gonna come.”

yiu slowed instantly.

he whined — an actual fucking whine that punched straight into your core — his hips bucking once before you put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“not yet,” you whispered.

his eyes snapped to yours — hazy, desperate, almost pained with how much he needed it.

“baby, please—fuck—i need to, i need to—”

you leaned in again, your voice soft but final.

“not yet.”

he went still.

not from obedience, but surrender.

his mouth opened and closed around nothing, his hands still clenched in the cushion, and his whole body was trembling like he was holding on by a thread. you moved again — not fast, but harder now, deeper — fucking him with long, drawn-out grinds that made his eyes roll back, his lips parting with each shaky breath.

“you’re being so good,” you murmured. “so fucking good for me.”

his voice came out rough, torn between groaning and crying. “you’re gonna kill me. this is gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

“you can come when i say,” you whispered. “you’ll wait for it.”

“i’ll wait,” he choked out. “i’ll fuckin’—i’ll wait, i swear, just—keep going, please, please—”

iou watched his face closely, the way it cracked open more with every movement, every clench around him. his body was beaten to hell and he was still holding himself perfectly still just to please you. that desperation, that pride — it was all in his eyes.

you leaned down, kissed the side of his mouth, and finally whispered, “come for me.”

the sound he made didn’t belong to any man who thought he had control. it was pure, broken release — his hips jolting once, his mouth falling open on a shattered gasp as he came hard, spilling into you with a choked-off moan that sounded more like a sob. his hands finally grabbed your thighs, gripping like he was drowning, his head pressing into your shoulder as he rode it out.

“fuckfuckfuck, baby-” he gasped, holding you tight, voice cracking. “thank you. thank you.”

you didn’t stop moving, not fully, just enough to let him twitch through the aftershocks, to keep him trembling and open and filled with you. he clung to your waist, mouth brushing your collarbone, every breath he took shaking like he was still coming down.

you whispered into his hair, slow and soft.

“I love you”

a/n: I live for a dom man who’s lowkey subby by circumstance, this took me forever to get right, so if you’re reading this, thank you. any comment, like, or message means so much to me. ilysm!!

tags - @zenithsturniolo @sturnsblogs @sirensdollesque @adoremattsturns @espressqe @matts-wife @adorechris @seaouidbabyx @ilovemenwithlonghairr @chlosallow @tezzzzzzzz @h3arts4nat @whore4-chrissturniolo

dividers: @cafekitsune

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo blurb #sturniolo triplets x reader #mathew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo imagine #frat boy chris #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff

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undyingdecay · 2 days ago

Note

Thoughts on mean Dom yelena? 🫣

(writing this near brought me to tears i need her so bad, more then bob)

yelena definitely hits you. quick slaps to the cheek, your ass, and even your clit within teach. not open-handed blows meant to hurt, but sharp, stinging little things that leave heat blooming in their wake — reminders you’ll feel long after the moment’s passed. she uses the excuse of ‘an eye for an eye.’ yelena bruises easily, her pale skin soft enough that sometimes you’ll accidentally scratch, bite, or squeeze too hard, leaving crescent-shaped marks and faint red streaks along her thighs, hips, collarbone. it doesn’t hurt her. you doubt you could hurt her even if you tried. that woman was built to take punishment, to dish it out, to wear bruises like a trophy.

but nonetheless — for every bruise you give her, she gives you ten.

she counts them out, too. marks you up like it’s a fucking game. a flick to your cheek for every nail mark. a stinging slap to your clit for every hickey she finds. your thighs a patchwork of hot, tender spots from her palm. the sharp crack of her hand against your skin echoing through the room, followed by her low, amused laugh when you jolt or gasp, too dumb with arousal to stop her.

“stop crying, you aren’t a child,” she remarks, voice thick with that accent you’d crawl over glass for.

yelena’s really into oral. really into it. she thinks you look the prettiest with your face between her legs, your lips slick with her, arousal clinging to your cheeks, chin, and nose. the messier the better. she’ll grab your hair, threading it tight in her fingers, pulling just enough to make your scalp ache. smearing herself across your skin like warpaint. it isnt about tenderness — it’s about claiming. about seeing you marked up, glazed over with need, your face a filthy, soaked mess because of her.

she likes to scare you sometimes too. grabbing you by your hair and locking her thick, powerful thighs around your head. the sudden squeeze making your ears ring, the world narrowing to the wet heat of her cunt and the steel trap of her muscles. you feel light-headed, dizzy, your brain flickering between pleasure and panic because surely you were going to suffocate.

“you’ll lose more air if you panic. i’ll let go when i cum.” she coos at you, her accent heavy and mocking, a smug little smirk in her voice. she knows you’re scared. knows you’ll panic, squirm a little, but never actually stop licking. you better fucking hurry up then.

and god, she loves watching you work for it — your tongue desperate, lips aching, spit slicking her thighs. the heady scent of her thick in your nose, coating your tongue. she keeps you there until your face is soaked, until you’re gasping against her and your eyes are glassy with the threat of tears. and she’ll laugh. pet your hair mockingly, call you her “pretty little mess.”

i can see yelena also really liking being called daddy. not in a soft, coaxing way, either. she wants it wrecked. wants it pulled from your throat like a sob. a desperate, stuttered ‘daddy’ when you’re too far gone to remember your own name. she loves it when your voice cracks, when your hips twitch and your thighs shake from overstimulation and you still find the strength to whimper it for her.

and when you do — when you finally croak it out in that broken, ruined tone — she smirks. tugs your hair harder, leans in real close so her breath ghosts over your ear.

“good little thing,” she’d purr. “say it again.”

and you always do.

#god and tribbling with her #your arousal mixing together only for her to force you to clean yourself off her later #.ᐟ.ᐟ #⤷ yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova mcu #yelena belova smut #yelena black widow #yelena belova #yelena x female reader #thunderbolts #thunderbolts*#marvel #mcu

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soobkwann · 1 day ago

Text

TEACH ME || ~ LEE JENO ✮⋆˙

Synopsis: When your dumb boyfriend cheats and mocks your oral abilities, who better to call for help than your childhood best friend?!

NOTES: (PLS READ TEASER FOR CONTEXT!) NSFW, Childhoodbsf!JENO x fem!reader, Oral (m received), slight angst, “cheating back”, sexually recording, LMK IF ANYTHING ELSE!!

WC: 2k || >_<

A/N; I hope you guys enjoy it!! I’ve been really excited to post! Thank you to my lovely Gabrielle for fixing my errors and Kana + Mal (@sungchoi) for reading the final versionnnn!

Jeno couldn’t believe what he just heard. He stares and leans back as if you’ve grown a second head.

This puts you on edge even further, he probably thinks you’re weird, how will you come back from this? Maybe tell him you’re just drunk! That won’t work, he’s been beside you this entire time-

“Are you sure?” Jeno cuts through your thoughts. “You really want me to show you?”

You take a deep breath and nod eagerly. “Yes, I want you to teach me.”

Jeno lets out a dry chuckle, “So suddenly? This isn’t just something you want to learn to show your little boyfriend, hoping he’ll stop cheating, right?”

Your heart practically fell to the floor. You open your mouth to deny his claims, but the words die on your tongue. He wasn’t completely wrong. But it isn’t about your boyfriend anymore.

“I mean, I was going to but-“ you pause, feeling the confidence you barely had in the beginning slowly washing away. “I don’t care about him anymore”

Jeno tilts his head at you, almost as if he’s saying “sure.” in a sarcastic way without even opening his mouth.

You’ve never felt so nervous in your life, but you really want this.

‘It’s Jeno, just tell him the truth.’ Your mind practically screams at you.

“I want to know what I’m actually supposed to do… I want to feel confident that I can make someone feel good— I just need someone to tell me what to do without claiming they’ve ‘had better’ once I’m done”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his.

“I need you, Jeno.”

Jeno feels himself folding on the spot looking into your pretty eyes.

He flashes you a pretty smile and says, “Okay, I’ll show you”

You let out a huge sigh of relief and smile back at Jeno. Not wanting to waste any time you try to lean Jeno back fully on the bed and get on your knees.

He chuckles at your sudden eagerness and pulls you back up beside him.

“Slow down, baby,” he teases. “I need a bit of foreplay too, you know?”

“Right— sorry,” you say shyly, already so overwhelmed and embarrassed.

‘How cute,’ Jeno thinks to himself.

He looks at your pretty face, searching for any signs that you have doubts doing this— you don’t move an inch, waiting for him to guide you.

Taking your readiness to learn into consideration, Jeno doesn’t waste another second and leans in, slowly putting his lips against yours.

You gasp lightly in realization, while his hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing sweet circles on your cheek. Then, without breaking the kiss, Jeno takes his free hand and reaches for yours, pulling it down until your fingers brush against his crotch is.

“Start right here,” he whispers against your lips. “Nice and slowly…”

He connects your soft lips against his but this time inserting his tongue. You don’t fight against it and just let him have his way, exploring your tongue while you palm his hardened cock.

Jeno suddenly breaks the heated make-out just enough for you to catch your breath. You continue your movements— slow, unsure, but so eager to please him. He groans against your lips and then moves to brush his lips against your cheek, then your jaw.

His warm and shaky breath hits your ear as he mutters “Just like that.” His voice deep and sultry. He leans back and examines the growing wet spot beneath his sweats.

“Fuck—feels good, baby.”

Your heart is beating at an almost deadly pace. You feel heat swarm your cheeks and also in between your legs. Squeezing your thighs together and focusing on him, you keep rubbing exactly like he told you— ‘nice and slowly’ seeing by his praise he’s enjoying it.

Jeno’s hips buck slightly and he places his hands on top of yours, halting your movements. He kisses you once more and looks at you with eyes that are already dazed.

“Get on your knees for me now, baby.”

You slowly drop off the bed onto your knees and look up at him.

Jeno could compare you to a sweet little puppy the way you’re so cute and compliant.

Helping you just a bit, he pulls his sweats and underwear off and leaves them pooling at his ankles.

You practically drool at the sight before you. His cock was long and girthy, the veins on the side protruding similar to his arms and a pretty pale pink tip leaking pre-cum from your previous assault.

Jeno signals you to give him your hands again, you do, of course, and he takes one of your hands and places it on his shaft, just below the tip.

“Let me show you how I like it,” he says, and wraps his hand around yours. Slowly he moves your hand up and down the base at a painful slow pace— his hand aiding your small one that doesn’t reach all the way around.

He continues helping you while also trying to keep his composure, he takes your thumb and places it atop of his aching tip. Getting the hint you rub your thumb across the slit, Jeno instantly hisses from the stimulation.

Your other hand laches onto his cock too and continues the slow stroking method he just taught you.

‘He likes to be teased’ you think to yourself.

You smirk to yourself at the sudden realization about what your friend (?) is into and take it upon yourself to speed up ever so slightly.

Jeno, now leaning back on his elbows, twitches at the sudden but small pace change, chasing the pressure.

“That’s it, Y/N.” he practically whimpers, voice still deep and dominant despite slowly coming undone. “You’re doing so good, already.”

You suck a breath at his praise and clinch your thighs together, trying to relieve the ache in between your legs.

Jeno notices your flustered shifting and smirks,

“You like being praised, baby?” Without giving you a chance to respond he instantly rubs your cheek lovingly and continues “Keep being good for me and I’ll praise you all you want.”

Nodding at his words, you give his tip one last teasing stroke and look up at Jeno.

“Show me what you know,” Jeno says.

You move your hands and instantly open your mouth trying to fit all of him in— leading to your eyes watering and you slightly gagging around his shaft.

Jeno tuts at your actions and still as patient as ever, pulls you back up.

A single tear falls from your eye— partly from choking, partly from embarrassment. Jeno swipes the tear with his thumb and looks at you sweetly.

“It’s okay, baby. You just need to pace yourself” he claims. “Start slow.”

Nodding at him with trust, you gulp and prepare to try again. You start slow, this time starting off by placing small kitten licks across the head.

Jeno adores your ability to follow directions and ultimately gives you the praise he promised,

“Good girl, just like I told you.”

You continued licking a few more times and then put the tip in your mouth, with barely anything in your mouth but you can’t help but moan at the fullness.

You suck slowly but efficiently and use your other hand to stroke what you can’t reach at the moment. As you take a peek up, you see Jeno with his head back letting out moans into the room, shuddering at the feeling of your warm tongue swirling around his slit.

Feeling confident from his reactions you decide to take a bit more of him down your throat and stroke him faster.

Jeno’s thighs tense as he tries to hold back from coming so soon, knuckles turning pale white from gripping the sheets.

He couldn’t even believe this was happening, he was supposed to be here comforting you— now here he is falling apart under your mouth.

It’s not even about how you’re making him feel— it’s the fact that it’s you. His Y/N. Years of tension unraveling with each stroke of your hand and tongue.

Jeno doesn’t know what this is going to mean for the two of you once he reaches his orgasm, he just knows he doesn’t want this to end. And he’ll make sure it doesn’t…

You hollow your cheeks and take as much more of him as you physically can. A strangled groan escapes him and he jerks his hips up— unconsciously gagging you with his big cock while moaning your name.

“Shit— Y/N, keep going” Jeno is moaning louder now, his chest heaving, lost in the pleasure of it all.

Aside from lust, mischief also clouds Jeno’s mind. An idea to have you to himself takes over along with pleasure.

“Y/N, gimme your phone.” He says breathlessly.

With your free hand, you still manage to dig into the pocket of your (his) hoodie and pull out your cellphone, still giving it your all to get Jeno off.

Jeno instantly takes the phone and with shaky hands goes to the camera app, swiping to the video feature.

He flips the camera and clicks record, videotaping you sucking his cock sloppily.

Jeno stops the video and then messily scrolls through your contacts, rolling his eyes while clicking on “My Love <3”.

He adds the video to the messages and clicks send.

—

Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch of his own apartment when he suddenly gets a notification.

Y/N..🩶: +1 New Message

(1 VIDEO ATTACHMENT)

Not thinking much of it, he clicks on it. Nothing could’ve truly prepared him for what the video contains.

“Show the camera how pretty you look sucking me, baby.”

He knows that voice all too well — fucking Jeno Lee, Y/N’s oh-so-lovely “best friend.”

The video continues and the angle is vile.

It shows you sucking Jeno off without a care in the world.

He barely has time to blink before he hears a loud, wet gag, piercing his ears through the phone— Jeno’s groaning followed shortly after.

“Shit— good girl, take all of it” Jeno commands and you comply, sucking eagerly with spit seeping from the sides of your mouth. Looking up at Jeno with those pretty eyes then flashing the camera a wink, giggling playfully with cock in your mouth.

His grip on the phone tightens, jaw locking and eyes twitching as the video goes on.

“Fucking, slut,” he spits.

Jeno’s breathing grows rapidly, his hips shuddering as your mouth takes him just like practiced— hand stroking the rest.

His chest is heaving at this point. You can see his tummy contracting and the veins in his arms straining as he groans out.

“Fuck, Y/N— I’m so close, don’t stop, baby.”

You whimper around him, sucking harder trying to bring him to release faster. And then it hits—Jeno moans deep and raw, body trembling as he spills into your mouth.

You let him ride it out, swallowing what you can and licking him clean with slow kitten licks, teasing the sensitive tip.

In the background, the camera catches it all—your swollen lips, the glisten of cum on your tongue, and your soft giggle as you look up at him, utterly pleased with yourself.

Then the video ends..

Your boyfriend is practically seeing red, instantly typing a storm, threatening Jeno and degrading you. His message didn’t even get a chance to send before-

Y/N..🩶: +1 New Message

“Nothing better than that 😮‍💨”

Your ex-boyfriend practically breaks the phone in half trying to call you, mind rushing with insults to call you.

You don’t pick up.

Jeno’s hand is in your hair, hips bucking, while your mouth is already full of someone who actually gives a damn.

— End.

Taglist (this post): @tyongspice1 , @bluedbliss , @hi00000234567, @ra3lyn-exe || Comment to be on permanent taglist!

#˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ :: soobkwann writes!#lee jeno x reader #jeno smut #jeno x reader #lee jeno x y/n #nct dream x reader #nct u smut #nct dream #kpop smut #chenle x reader #mark lee x reader #renjun x reader #jaemin x reader #kpop fanfic #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno imagines #jeno x you #jeno x y/n

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monstercanyeti · 22 hours ago

Text

We talking romance? Let's go!

BTdubs, this is my opinion and mine alone, so don't yell at me if I say something mean about your favorite. We all have favorites and that's perfectly okay because this is a video game.

So, if we talk about romance, I hate to say that the better romance options are for Male V rather than Female V. Judy is alright, sure, but if you're nice to her. I remember in one of my playthroughs, when my Cool attribute was low, I wasn't able to end the conversation quickly. Now, I know how it looks like from her end. Some random merc she met that Evelyn hired is suddenly back, asking to find her in desperation would raise some flags. What could they possibly want, right? Revenge? To kill Evelyn? Makes sense and I get why she's hostile, but the shit she says to you is low. She throws Jackie's and T-bug's death in your face and blames you for it, as if you were the sole being responsible for everything that happened.

No one, not a single soul, knew Saburo Arasaka would fucking be there. T-bug mentions that everyone is scrambling and on their feet, because his arrival is that sudden. Yorinobu probably got the memo at the last minute and rushed his ass from wherever the hell he was straight back. Didn't even have time to process it, just sat down and waited for his father to come down the stairs. No one could predict what Yorinobu would even do, least of all V. I don't even think Yorinobu planned to kill Saburo either, it was the heat of the moment when he did it. A crime of passion, so to speak. All of it ended in disaster, but V did manage to get the Relic. V did the job, at their friend's expense and what did that earn them? A bullet to the brain by Dexter fucking DeShawn.

Judy only knows from what the scream sheets and news outlets told her, yet when V explains that they also fucking died, Judy says she doesn't fucking care. She wants to be angry, which is fine, but if you keep defending yourself, she is just more and more angry at you. Fine, I get it. After your mission in Clouds and you show up at Fingers, she gets all mad. She starts to give up before V tells her to get her shit together. To hold out for hope. The go to the power plant and this is when I lose it with Judy. She demands to know why you were looking for Ev, so when you tell her, she scoffs and says she expects nothing less of a merc.

Girl, what the fuck? I get you're mad, but this is the shit you're gonna tell me when I'm the only reason why you know where Evelyn is in the first place? I did the dirty work for you and you say this shit? Scavs die on sight, so I'm killing everyone, but really? I go through hell just to get Evelyn and save her. If I didn't do something, your ass would've just sat in your den, mulling over what you should do but not actually doing it.

If V never came back from the dead, what would happen? Judy wouldn't have done anything. The Mox wouldn't help her, they're tired of her shit. She's good at what she does, truly talented, but that could only go so far when you start to piss off the leader of the Mox enough. Tom would have never have told her what happened, because he'd still be doing his own thing, always wondering what happened to Ev but never doing more than that. Ev would have been absolutely tortured until she finally died from the way the Scavs were treating her.

And the whole thing with them doing the raid on Clouds? Piss poor planning. She had nothing to go off of and the only reason why anything happens is because of V. Depending on what you do results in something awful happening. You either get the Dolls killed who aided you in the mission, Maiko takes over and doesn't make the Dolls lives any easier or you just piss her off.

Depending on your choices, if you unlock the extra mission for Judy, the one where you dive underwater, she goes through her life before suddenly feeling utterly guilty over everything that happened. If you reject her advances/play Male V, she sleeps on the couch and Johnny goes off on how he doesn't like her. He may be an asshole, but Johnny has shown that he's pretty decent at reading certain types of people. He knows her type and he hates it. If you stay for her, he gets mad at you for being all "sentimental" but, either way, the message is clear. He does not like her and if you're not "nice" to her, she says some pretty awful shit to you.

That's not to say Judy is a bad character. Far from it. I think she's fantastic, because she's a fleshed out character with flaws. She's realistic. But, for romance? I don't find her to be a good romantic partner for V.

River, on the other hand, is one I do have the least experience with, but for good reason. He's a good guy, heart's in the right place, but he comes on too strong and it's kinda awkward. From the stories I've heard and the bits of dialogue I've seen from videos, I just don't think River is a romance option that V would pursue. Plus, he's a badge. V with a cop boyfriend would only be hot in fanfiction, not in the reality of the game. Male V can at least see the friendship in him, but Female V is fighting mighty levels of cringey flirtation that borderlines desperation. Truthfully, I refused to do that mission for the longest time because I genuinely did not want to go through that second-hand embarrassment. But, from what I read, at the very least, you know his love is genuine. He does love V and I guess that's alright. You just really have to deal with some pretty hard cringe beforehand.

Although, I will say, River is very similar to Judy in terms of planning. He does not plan ahead. He doesn't think things through and impulsively goes through the motions. From what I've seen, from the actual gameplay mind you, he relies heavily on you to do most of the work in figuring out where to go. Like, my guy, your nephew's life hangs on the balance but you're telling me that you're incapable of doing the police work? Why I am doing the scrolling? Why am I doing the investigating? If you do not go with him to save his nephew, he's not prepared for anything and dies. Mind you, he's a cop. Sure, he doesn't have the cyberware that V has, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to avoid mines and turrets. Finding the button isn't as hard as you think and navigating around is dicey, but he could figure it out. Time is of the essence, but still, even Panam could figure out what she needs to do if she was there.

Speaking of which, Panam is probably the best romantic option in the game for a multitude of reasons. She's impulsive, like Judy, but also smart enough to think on her feet. She shows love to V, regardless of gender, though only familiar/platonic love for Fem V, and is the type to be your best friend through it all. She truly does love you and is hurt deeply when you disappear with certain endings. She is your ride or die type of partner and that's what's so great about her.

Kerry, truthfully, is the one I have zero experience on. I haven't gotten to the point of romancing him because I'm usually not playing a Male V. From the looks of it, he maintains the relationship with V so long as V is in Night City. And if you choose the Phantom Liberty ending, he would like to start up the relationship again, but that he's busy with the tour. And honestly, I think that's pretty dope. A rockerboy(old man really) that loves you a lot and can spoil your ass? Sounds good to me, honestly.

Now, enough of that. I know I ranted about Judy the most, sorry about that, but really? With these romance options, it pains me that the ones I wanna romance, I can't.

Other Romance Options that I'd have preferred

Vik? Lemme romance that old-timer, please. I'd kill to have him as a romance option. Solid enough dude. Man can beat most people's asses and he's not even suped up with any cybernetics. He's chill and he's nice to hang around with.

Claire? CLAIRE!? LET ME ROMANCE HER, PLEEEEEASE. God, she's so cool, so pretty, so amazing. I know she was married and was grieving, but c'mooooooooon. Let me love her. Let me be with her. Please!

Takemura is an enemy to lover trope and I am alright with it being a one-off thing. Truly I am. I mean, we even make a tongue-n-cheek reference about how we could make sure he's not feeling so lonely and he says he's flattered, but has prior commitments.

That one ripperdoc, Rafael Pérez, in Arroyo? Pleaaaaase let me romance this guy. Ugh, he's perfect. Tired man who could definitely use some company. Love you. I do.

T-Bug? I KNOW YOU DIE BUT GOD YOU ARE GORGEOUS! LET ME LOVE YOU! She's so pretty, too. Ugh, T-Bug, you're amazing. Trust me, I'll love you. I'll take care of you while you surf the net. I'll make sure to take care of you.

Denny? OH GOD, DENNY. That woman had me flabbergasted. I swear, I make it a point to have each V check her out. Feisty woman and gorgeous to boot. And she's punk? She's a rocker? Fuuuuuuck me, she's amazing and I'm enamored. Fuck Henry, I will pick Denny every single time.

So Mi? So Mi... I'm dying. I'm dead. I love her. I'd kill for a chance to romance her. So she lied to me, no one's perfect. I love her. V loves her. V will get over it. We got options, don't you worry. You go to space, I'll take care of myself. I'll see you after you're better, trust me.

Mumaur? El Capitan? Let me love you. Let me adore you. Sure, as a fixer, it could get complicated, but you know me and trust me and I got your back. I'm good at what I do, so please, let us be together.

Rita? Bouncer and Mox? Beautiful and badass to boot? Let me love you. I'm a merc, so I don't mind getting my hands dirty. I'll chill with you, fight with you and do whatever you want me to do. Just let me loooooove you.

Tiny Mike? Mike Kowalski? Yo, you and me are gonna have fun. We'll have a great time and I will romance the fuck out of you if given the chance. Already saved your ass, so you know I'm tough enough to help you with your merc work. Truuust me, I left your bro alive, I promise.

Angelica Whelan? Listen, you're a bitch and you did my boy Aaron dirty. Truly, you're bad. But, god, I think I can change you for the better. Let me romance you. It'd be toxic and god awful but let me make that choice, pleeeeeeease.

Farida Nazeri? Let me love you. God, let me love you. I think we have chemistry and I think we could make it work. Sure you work for BARGHEST, and I shouldn't get mixed up with that, but LET ME LOVE YOU. I WILL RISK IT FOR YOU.

Kurt Hansen? I hate you... but I'm willing to have a one-off with you. Just a one off, like with Meredith.

Paco Torres? One off, for sure, but damn it might be great.

Aurore Cassel? God, it'd be awful and just ruthless. It'd be so toxic and I know at some point, I'd grow to hate you. BUT LET ME MAKE THAT MISTAAAAKE. Come on, let me MAKE IT. PLEASE!

That being said, Johnny not being on the table does suck. Because, I agree. Johnny knows everything there is to know about you. Johnny cares about you and is with you throughout every portion of your life. Johnny honestly should have been a romance option, but I also understand why they didn't. I feel like it'd be one of the hardest things to explore. It's not like he's actually real and alive. He's dead. He's a dead man that you're speaking to. It's so morally grey, falling in love with a memory of someone who once existed.

It's a pretty damn hard topic to broach, one I think they could have explored, but I get why they didn't. There's so much to Cyberpunk 2077 and it's amazing that everyone can experience this game truly differently than others.

So here's the thing about Johnny Silverhand.

If he were a romance option, it wouldn't even be close; he'd be the most popular option. Ao3 backs this up. But the game doesn't let us choose him.

The four options the game gives us are fine as far as romance goes--they lack the depth of old-school Bioware and Larian. Panam, Judy, and Kerry are beautifully written, wonderfully messy characters. Oh yeah, then there's River (no seriously, CDPR did him dirty). But once you play through their stories, you're kinda done with them. Sure, you get some random texts, a handful of repeatable dialog, a repeatable date--but that's such a tiny sliver of your game time.

Johnny's with you for most of the game. Over the course of many hours, you get to see him warm up to V (a stand-in for you, the player), playfully trade barbs with them, and then solemly swear to off himself in order to save their/your pathetic ass.

If you think about it for more than two seconds, V has this near-psychotic level of intimacy with Johnny. The "guy in my head" trope makes a lot of narrative sense, especially in video games. It's a more interesting story when the main character has someone to talk to, rather than internal monolog or muttering to themselves. But if you overthink the trope to a concerning degree, as I have--you understand that Johnny is forced to quietly look away while V is taking a shit, showering, flicking the bean, getting random boners, violently puking blood, etc. This is way more intimacy than I have with my husband of 15 years. We close the door when we use the bathroom.

They're sharing dreams, seeing each other's memories. They pick up each other's habits. V can play the guitar. Johnny's less of an asshole and learns how to let go. They're changing each other for the better.

All the other romances in CP77 feel so damn shallow next to Johnny and V. That's not the fault of the romancable characters. It's that they've been through some very fucked-up shit together, and I don't know how you don't trauma-bond over all that. V and Johnny are the only two souls on earth who know what it's like to be an engram on a chip inside a corpse's head.

Their story is so beautiful, tragic, and fucked-up that I don't want it to end.

And I really wanna fuck that rockerboy.

#cyberpunk 2077 #long post #mostly me ranting

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cozzzynook · 2 days ago

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TFA hurt/comfort

The next few days dragged on a sense of grief and dread and all Optimus could do was watch on. Bumblebee had left his room with the sparkling and was currently hiding away with Prowl and Jazz. He didn't blame he yellow mech at all nor Megatron's anxious waiting for any news. The prime gave a sigh as he slumped against the wall lost in thought. What was he going to do? His hands are tied and yet he wants to make both Megatron and Bee happy.

"Sulking are we?" Ratchet's voice got closer as the medic stood over the sitting prime.

"I don't know what else to do Ratchet" Optimus raised his helm meeting those narrowed optics. "I don't want to tear apart Bee's family and I really don't want Megatron's wrath either. Why couldn't everything be so simple?"

Ratchet grumbled as he sat down next to Optimus. "Life's never simple kid" He then placed a comforting servo. "Did you ever find out why Screamer gave up the bitty in the first place?"

Optimus nodded as he began to pick away at the paint on his servos. "From what I was told, Starscream isn't very found of sparklings and thinks they take up too much time. So instead of telling Megatron and handing over care he just...left them"

The medic grumbled rolling his optics "Probably the only kind thing he ever did. My spark aches to think what would have happened if the kid was stuck with a carrier like that"

"Mine too" He then pulled his knees closer to his chest. Suddenly an idea popped into his helm and it might just be crazy enough to work. He then turned to face Ratchet a small smile quickly forming on his lips. "What if I make a deal? Let Megatron visit but allow Bee to keep and raise the bitty?"

"You think you can convince old bucket helm to stick to a deal like that?" Ratchet raised a brow before narrowing his optics. "Have you got scraplets in your processor?"

Optimus suddenly got to his pedes a surge of hope and determination rushing through his lines. "I have to try, for Bee's sake"

-----

Later that afternoon and deeply hidden in the forest Megatron stood tapping his servo on his arm as he waited. He really hoped it would be good news otherwise he'll regret sparing Starscream for throwing away his bitty. A snapping branch quickly drew him out of his thoughts as he turned bracing himself only to relax when he saw the familiar reds and blues.

"Prime, what news do you bring? How's my sparkling fairing?" Megatron narrowed his optics as he did his best to hide the worry in his field.

"They're fine but..." Optimus's cheeks would be a few shades darker as he craned his neck to look up at the grey mech. "I have an offer to make first"

A soft hum rumbled in his chest as he kneeled down to better look at his small lover. "And what would that be?" His curiosity was peaked as he could also feel the very faint buzz of embarrassment coming from Optimus's field.

"If you let Bumblebee keep and raise the sparkling, I'll let you visit them and..." Optimus could feel his own face growing hot as light charge trickled in his lines. "In return I'll give you an heir"

Now that was a very interesting offer.

Yooooo 😳😳😳😳😳

#transformers #megaop #megop #starscream #ratchet #megatron tfa #tfa optimus prime #bumblebee tfa #jazzprowl #mechpreg mention

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sephiquehearts · 3 days ago

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bonten timeline maisan (mikey x sanzu) x reader smut.. hear me out.......... specifically haruchiyo eating user out bcuz mikey ordered him to, even though reader is mikey's wife? PLEASE PLEASEPLEPALSPELPLALSPLSPLEPSLPL i beg on my hands and knees........

It's been so long since I last wrote smut, it didn't even meet my expectations but it's still better than I thought it would be

It was quite the unusual request, both you and Sanzu had to look at each other after hearing Mikey's words

"I feel like having my own private show today, so Sanzu, put her over that table and have a taste, maybe I'll even learn a thing or two, I'm sure you're very good at this"

So that leads to where you are now, sitting at the table, legs spread with no clothes and Sanzu kneeling down right in front of your cunt

"You really sure about this?" He asked Mikey again, not wanting to screw things up with him, he definitely didn't wanted to do something that would end on Mikey wanting to kill him later

"Are you perhaps afraid of not doing a good job?" He raised a brown with tease in his voice, making Sanzu roll his eyes

Mikey was sitting at his chair, his eyes fixed on the view in front of him. But mostly, he was focused on you, watching your curious face look at Sanzu, waiting for what would come next

He couldn't hold himself, Mikey got up from his chair and walked over you two, just to stand by your side and cover your eyes with his hands

"It's no fun if you get to see what's happening" He looked around, ending up just getting your own shirt to cover your eyes before returning to his seat

"Are you going to start or do I have to help you too?" He asked to Sanzu who seemed to shiver with that

The pink haired boy looked up, your lips parted with heavy breaths in anticipation, and so he started

He didn't went straight to where you were hoping him to go, no, he started with slow, sloppy kisses at your tummy, hands on your hips, eyes fixed on your face

His kissed right under your breasts, lowering to your navel, his fingers teasingly caressing your inner thighs, but never getting to close to your cunt

You were already so sensitive, so responsive to his every touch, maybe it was the shirt covering your eyes, but god every kiss and caress seemed like such a sweet torture

Mikey on the other hand watched it all with a neutral expression, his eyes so fixed on what was happening, his dark, lustful gaze almost burning both you and Sanzu

Sanzu looked at Mikey for a moment, making sure he was still okay with all of this, before slowly dragging his fingers to your lower lips, parting them to get a better view, almost salivating just by that

"Isn't she pretty?" Mikey suddenly asked "I bet she might be soaking wet already" His voice was enough to make you moan

"Mhm, she sure is" Sanzu replied, using one of his hands to keep your legs open, the other one being used to explore your sex, like it was just a new toy he was testing, seeing if it was really good

"She's sensitive like that, it's so easy to get her like this"

"You sure are lucky to have such a cute girl like that. Fuck, I could get two fingers here easily by his wet she is"

"I don't doubt that, but instead of only imagining, you should try it don't you think?"

Oh god, they are literally just having a normal conversation about that while you're there silently begging to be given attention?

"That would be too easy, it's better to work them up, don't you agree?" Sanzu talked again, his fingers pinching on your clit, making you scream and arch your back

"Sure thing" Mikey replied, watching his Sanzu moved a bit to the side just to let him see it better, and Mikey didn't wait a second to move the chair closer to you

Sanzu let go of you, getting back to those kisses, making you whine in desperation, your hips moving forward while you silently begged to be filled by something, getting a chuckle out of them both

"See, work them up so they'll be desperate by each passing second" Sanzu looked at Mikey again, who finally got up from his chair to again move closer to you, but you didn't even noticed that until you felt a string of pain right at you cunt, flinching your body and screaming in surprise

Even Sanzu was a bit surprised by that, but he was smiling, both in shock and interesting

"What? I trained my girl very well, she's not some porcelain doll that you have to be careful with" Another slap, and another one, until it became a whole series of smacks one before the other

Your body shaked, your head was falling back and your mouth opened to scream in a way other would probably hear it, but none of you cared about that now

"Please..." You said something finally, almost a whisper "N-no more... I want you... want you b-both, please Mikey, please Sanzu"

They both looked at each other before leaning down to you, one on each side, whispering to your ear

"Awwn, sweet girl is already begging for us"

"Don't worry babe, we'll take very good care of you"

Just a look, it was all they had to do, and it was like they had a whole conversation in their minds, already knowing exactly what to do

Sanzu helped you move while Mikey undid his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor and letting his clothes fall to it as well

You were left confused for a moment, breathing shakingly in anticipation, screaming and arching your back with the sudden feeling of a tongue on your already sensitive clit

Sanzu used one of his hands to hold your hips and keep you in place, while the other teased your entrance, doing exactly as Mikey said before, shoving two fingers inside you and taking no time to fuck them inside you while his tongue tortured you

He had your legs shaking in less than a minute, and just when you were about to say something, there was something touching you lips

"Be a good girl and suck it for me hm" You heard Mikey's voice and took no second to obey, opening you mouth and sticking you tongue out, just to have him moving his hips and roughly fucking your throat

Abruptly, the shirt was taken away from you eyes, and the view of Mikey looking down at you made you roll your eyes and moan on his dick

"Fuck... such a good girl aren't you? Taking both of us so well, I should do this more times don't you agree?" His hand grabbed your hair to help you move, his own hips getting a brutal pace that made you tear up

Sanzu also wasn't holding back on you, licking and sucking on you clit in a way that made you see stars, while his fingers curled inside you so fucking good

You looked yo at Mikey with tears on your eyes, a view that made him grin in satisfaction, especially when you screamed on his cock after Sanzu hit that sweet spot inside of you

"Sounds like I found done treasure here" Sanzu moved his fingers to hit harder on that spot, making you roll your eyes and scream his name at Mikey's cock

It didn't took long for you to start feeling that familiar thing "You coming sweet girl?" Sanzu was the one to ask, doubling his efforts to make you feel good

"That took you longer than I anticipated, though you would be melting in the first seconds" Mikey chuckled "Be a good girl them and cum for us, show how much you like being a cock drunk slut"

And it took no second for you to do it, spilling your juices all over Sanzu's face and fingers

He licked you clean, careful not to overstimulate you too much, he still had more to do with you

"Fuck... Mikey I'm fucking her now" He warned before unfuing his belt, to which Mikey agreed while looking down at you

"It'll be a long night, you better get ready for it all sweet girl" You rolled your eyes again, feeling Sanzu burry himself inside you

When Mikey requested Sanzu to have you in front of him, at first you didn't though it was a good idea, but now, being stuffed so fucking good by them, oh this was definitely the best idea ever

You sure had to do that again some other day, because having those two man chatting about you while fucking you numb was something you had to be a part of again

#sephieasks #sephiewrites #tokyo revengers #manjiro sano #sano mikey manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #bonten sanzu #bonten mikey #smut 🔞

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threegoldfish · 1 day ago

Text

Marc ends up following that schedule he's been given.

...Somewhat.

It turns out that having meals at set times is actually the easiest for him to do; No, he's not enjoying the process of consuming food - which isn't the kitchen's fault, because everything is rather decent in quality and taste, all things considered. He's just lacking an appetite, and nothing he consumes makes him feel better in any shape or form... but he does manage to eat a suitable amount. Enough to keep him going, enough to make sure his body won't crumble and fall apart. ...As bitter as the coffee is, he's actually enjoying that one the most; A habit of his he can keep holding onto, having a cup of coffee in the morning. It feels... good. Secure. Familiar. Would be even better if he were to allow himself a bit of sugar or milk to go with it...

He's not there yet - allowing himself to even have that one cup of coffee in the first place is almost dancing at the edge of being too much, too generous, so he's going with a plain, black one for now.

The rest of that schedule that Harrow has created for him turns out to be a bit more of an issue - because Marc does not really want to go and see what's going on in the community room, does not want to join anyone doing anything. Since the other had phrased said task rather broadly, however, Marc decided to take it quite literal - found something going on, took a seat a bit further away, watched it happening. Looked at some guys working on a puzzle, then looked at a young girl painting at a closeby window.

...Trying to not come across as super creepy while doing that, yeah. He's, uh, not really eager to be seen as a weirdo... for rather obvious reasons.

He ended up doing that for a bit, then went to get himself something to read; Apparently there's a library existing within this facility, and Harrow had ordered him to go there, pick something up he'd like to read through. That task turned out to be rather easy to do as well - Marc sure as hell did not expect the library to look the way it does, and he also did not expect it to hold so many different books to begin with... many topics, many genres, almost anything a heart could ever desire.

Journaling, however? That's something he hates - he knew he would, but once he'd sat down in front of those stupid empty pages, he'd stared at them for almost a whole hour without writing a word. Everything had felt wrong, not worth it to be noted down, too stupid... all of that combined.

---He did manage to write something into it, in the end, despite it all - one single sentence, written in neat, slightly curved letters: I don't like writing journals.

He's never too late for anything, prefers to be early, if Marc can somehow manage to do that. And despite having decided the evening before that he would not join that stupid group meeting - because honestly, why should he? - he's... well, here.

Having stopped at the door frame, glancing into the room, Marc watches other people take a seat at whatever chair they seem to prefer; Harrow's already there, ready to start it all off---

Marc could still leave, turn around and make his way back down to his own room. Enjoy the peace and quiet there, the solitude, the white walls and white floors and white ceilings. He could change his mind about it all, could nope the fuck out and do something else...

But it's written onto his schedule and... what else is he even supposed to do? Drawing? Solving a damn puzzle? Well, he could read another book, but... he technically isn't asked to do that until later today, so...

...A sigh, Harrow's voice beginning to echo through the room - as much as it can, with it always being so quiet, level. Means that Marc is now a tad bit too late, if he's being strict with himself... Shit.

A swallow, a lick of his bottom lip, and Marc finally kicks his ass - enters the room with quiet, tentative steps, walking over to where the rest of the others are already sitting and waiting for whatever is going to happen; Eyes are on him, Marc can tell, and he has a brief, rather awkward lookaround before taking a seat on one of those empty chairs - ends up sitting closest to Harrow in a suitable distance.

Arms cross in front of his chest, a firm, slightly unhappy yet somewhat curious expression on tired features - a drilling gaze thrown at someone who stares at him, which causes that guy to finally look away. Good. Marc hopes it stays this way.

Arthur’s eyebrows raised, in an action that could be easily mistaken for surprise. Anyone who knew him would understand what it was, a nod of respect for being willing to reach out - there was nothing more difficult than accepting help. Asking for it, wanting it - he leaned over the desk, just enough to grab a clipboard near the edge of it, flipping to a fresh sheet of paper.

“Alright,” he said, more to himself than to Marc as he clicked his pen. “Let’s give the day a spine.”

He’d keep it light, just because structure wasn’t the same thing as pressure; it was just something for Marc to follow, if it helped. At 8, have breakfast. At 8:30, find something going on in the community room. At 9:30, observe a group session.

He listed out the full day, using military time only in the hopes that Marc would find comfort in it. He ripped the sheet free with a clean precision, laying it down on the desk in front of Marc.

“You have to be at every meal,” he stated. “At eighteen-hundred, I want you to journal. I don’t care what you write, but I want you to write something. A note to someone that you never send, something for yourself - I don’t care. But meals and this are ones I don’t really want you to skip. The rest isn’t set in stone, but it’s all yours. Cross out whatever feels like too much. And I’d like to know what is too much, if you don’t mind.”

If Marc did mind, then it wouldn’t be pushed; Arthur wasn’t known for putting on pressure. Not unless it was something that was needed, something where pressure might help ease the pain, just a bit.

─── ⋆⋅⚖️⋅⋆ ─────────────────

The chairs were already arranged when Arthur arrived, as they typically tended to stay inside of the sunroom. Morning light filtered in through the frosted windows, the warmth there but tainted with an artificial feel; the windows didn’t open, and the room smelled like the same lemon sanitizer.

Arthur’s cane gave its familiar tapping as he walked in, setting the clipboard down on a side table. There were some people forced to come to these, just part of their treatment plans that Arthur enforced; but some were optional, too. Marc’s name was written neatly at the bottom of the list, in a gentle kind of hope that the man would come by for a bit.

He took his usual seat, one that was a bit spaced out from the rest. Not because he thought he needed to make a ‘head’ of the group, but rather because he knew that no one would choose to sit next to him - this group was one for people with heavier problems. Trauma, mostly, though one or two might not fit that mold exactly.

Some patients were already drifting in. A few nodded, while one or two avoided his eyes completely. As always, the mood was a strange cocktail; some people resented him, some were nervous, somme polite. Most of them had nowhere else to be, and some of them liked groups with Arthur just because he always stayed so calm.

A woman with a scar down her forearm folded her arms too tightly, sitting with her legs curled up under her. An older man took a chair near the window, scooting it back some so he could be closer to it; someone else had coffee, sipping from it quietly.

“Good morning,” Arthur greeted, his voice low and even. “If this is your first time, you don’t have to speak. No one’s going to force you into anything. But today… I’d like to start by talking about memory. Not just what we remember, but what we try not to. If anyone would like to begin.”

#preemptivejustice #threads & interactions; marc spector #(marc: -throws a gaze that could kill at another patient-)#(another patient: -looks away quickly-)#(marc: yeah bitch you better)#(lol)

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yjdrabbles123 · 2 days ago

Text

Quiet/Loud Chapter 7

Final chapter!

‘Soooo Shauna and Van are trying to see how many free sauces they can take beofre someone comes to tell them to knock it off. And Jackie’s finally decided what she wants so i think everyone should have food soon.’ Lottie pauses, waiting to see if a comment will be made but Mari suddenly feels very aware of how her pants are sticking to her, in a way that makes her really not care that much about Jackie’s usual lengthy deliberation over apple slices or carrot sticks or Shauna and Van’s apparent chaoticness. Lottie waits a moment then clearly decides to just move things along more obviously, tilting her head towards the restaurant. ‘Mel, I think Gen misses you….’

Mel scrambles up, taking the hint for once. ‘Ok-’

‘Wait! Um-’ Mari can feel her own voice going a tiny bit trembly but she has to say it. ‘Tell Gen I’m….I’m not actually mad at her? Please?’

‘Sure!’ Mel runs back across the parking lot, plaits bouncing. So that’s sorted out. Mel is the best of all of them at coaxing Gen back into being ok again and as much as Gen might second-guess the rest of them, she generally trusts whatever Mel tells her.

(To her credit, Mel hardly ever abuses this power.)

When Mel is a reasonable distance away, Lottie opens her arms questioningly- no pressure, never any expectation- and Mari slides out of her seat to stumble into them gratefully. She’s feeling more like herself and now that Lottie’s here and Mel isn’t, the herself that she’s feeling like is the her that wants to cuddle up to Lottie until she feels better and maybe cry a bit more- just to make sure she’s properly done- and that kind of wishes Lottie could pick her up properly and carry her to the bathroom.

‘Feeling a bit better?’

‘Mmm.’ She buries her face a bit deeper into Lottie’s neck- rose bodybutter and that weird incense stuff that Lottie likes burning and that Tai keeps stressing that she’s going to burn the house down with, even with Lottie’s promise that she’ll never light anything unless she’s feeling like her very oldest, most attentive self- and feels Lottie’s hand in her hair.

‘It’s ok, Mar. Everything’s ok.’

And it sort of feels like it might be.

‘Pink shorts or black sweatpants?’

Lottie stands in front of her in the McDonalds bathroom, fishing around in the bag of clothes they keep in the trunk. The clothes are constantly being switched around and laundered (and occasionally stolen when the car clothes are particularly cute or comfy- Shauna insists that her green cotton sweater has always belonged to her but Mari absolutely knows differently: she’s keeping the knowledge to herself for when she needs a bargaining chip though).

The sweatpants are closer to what she was wearing before so she picks those, even though it’s not like anyone is going to be fooled into thinking they’re the same. She doesn't need Lottie's help to change or anything- she’s not feeling that small- but she doesn't mind when Lottie kneels to fold the cuffs up to make them short enough to fit her. It’s nice to feel like Lottie is taking care of her, like she’s happy to do small things like that without Mari needing to ask.

She also doesn't let herself hold Lottie's hand when they join the others at the table (or let her think too much about how they’d originally planned to just eat on the road so that they could be home in time for everyone to have some downtime before bed, or what Van is going back to the car to clean up when she slips out as soon as Mari and Lottie come in) because again, she’s not a baby or anything- but once she’s in her place in the corner of the booth, she lets herself edge in closer and closer until she’s cuddled up to Lottie’s warm side.

Lottie slips an arm around her and quietly reminds her to eat. The food doesn’t taste as good as it usually does but Lottie’s smile when she starts to pick at her fries is enough to keep her going.

Jackie is exchanging sips of milkshake with Tai as they try to work out if there actually is a difference in taste between the different flavours- Jackie insists there is, Tai says they’re basically the same- and next to them, Nat and Shauna have their heads bent over Shauna’s pony, passing Shauna’s biro between them as they modify it.

(There has been, Mari learns, some heated discussion over pony colours, since it appears that while everyone WANTED the pink pony, only Van had actually gotten one and had also, unusually for her, refused to swap, gift or even lend out.)

Nat carefully draws a thick ring of biro-ink eyeliner around the pony’s big blue eyes and Shauna nudges her, reminding her to be careful and thus making the line waver. Nat glares but- ever the peacemaker- doesn’t try to stab Shauna with the pen or hit her with the pony, which is what Mari’s first impulse would be.

Gen- looking only a tiny bit like she’s been crying- is helping Mel make their ponies gallop between the milkshakes.

‘Ogo! Ajuas!’

Mel flips her hat off her head, trapping both ponies and Gen’s hand beneath it and declaring it to be an ambush. She shoots a questioning glance at Mari when she sees Mari is watching- did I say it right?- and although her pronunciation is definitely a little off, it feels so good to hear Mel using the same exclamations on purpose that Shauna had wrinkled her nose in confusion at when Mari had used them in a game last week that she nods anyway.

‘You need to draw a rose.’ Suddenly Shauna is thrusting her formerly lemon yellow pony under Mari’s nose along with the slightly blotchy blue biro she keeps in her pocket for sudden writing emergencies.

‘She needs tattoos-’ Nat puts in, by way of explanation and Shauna nods.

‘Do it here- right here-’

She wouldn’t normally let Shauna tell her what to do but also there’s something nice in things seeming sort of normal and she is proud that she learnt how to draw roses that look like proper roses so she’s quite pleased at the chance to show it off.

‘I’m doing a skull too,’ she informs them as the rose takes shape- just to let Shauna know that there are limits to how much she’ll just blindly obey- and Nat’s eyes light up.

‘Yes! Do a skull with a rose on it!’

Lottie gets up to get a milkshake while the second skull is being executed slightly shakily by Shauna- Mari is keeping her feedback to a minimum to preserve the peace- and Van slides in next to her, nudging her with her shoulder.

‘No happy meal?’

She shakes her head, wondering if Van is going to give her a Jackie-talk about needing to make sure she eats enough (and hoping that if she is that Nat and Shauna will get up and go somewhere else so she can explain properly, that the food choices had felt like too much when it came to order which is why Lottie let her have just a vanilla cone). But instead Van just slides the much-coveted pink pony out of her hoody sleeve, like a magician with a tiny plastic rabbit. ‘Think you could make use of this for me?’

There’s a collective little Aw from the unfortunate havers of the non pink ponies, while Van raises her voice slightly to remind them that Mari didn’t get one at all.

She’d usually flaunt it a little- and she does enjoy turning it over in her hands, running her fingers over the shiny hair and the little rose icon on the flank. It’s definitely the best one- almost like one you could get from a store, rather than a McDonalds.

She waits til attention has drifted away a bit and slides over to where Mel and Gen are constructing a stable out of an empty fry box.

‘Um…hi’.

‘Hi…’

There’s a moment of silence between them all and Mari wills them to hear what she still can’t say out loud. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Then she slides the pink pony over to Mel, hoping she’s doing it as cool and casually as Van made it look.

‘Um…..do you want this?’

Mel’s eyes light up but she looks confused too.

‘Don’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

She wants Mel to know it’s a proper I’m-sorry present, rather than something she doesn’t care about.

Luckily Mel seems to understand.

‘Thanks.’

Gen looks up. ‘Do you want to play?’

‘Are you making a stable?’

‘No, a piercing studio. Shauna thinks she’s so cool because her pony has tattoos. And I found a thumbtack in the car.’

‘Oh.’

‘Do you want to help?’

She does. So she does.

****

Andddd its finished! To the anon who sent the initial request, I hope you dont mind it became a saga!

Let me know if you liked it or had any thought about the headcanons, I love to hear what people think!

#yellowjackets agere #little!mari #little!melissa

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riemanifests · 1 day ago

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Stop waiting til you're perfect.

stop waiting for the perfect time to manifest that thing. stop waiting until you're perfect. stop waiting until you feel perfect enough. stop waiting until the 3d looks perfect enough. and most of all, stop waiting.

　 there's this thing i want to manifest but ive been putting it off because i don't feel ready enough for it. i dont feel good enough for it yet. and my 3d looks so far from it. so i thought, how can i even have this in my life right now? i cant, i need to wait. BULLSHITTTT. 　

♡ 𓈒　There is no time but now

a second ago was now for you. a second later will turn into now for you. and right now it's... well now for you. so if you're always putting off things for the next moment based off the 3d too.. why? is it because of fear? doubt? the desire feeling "big" to you? check to see if your reasoning is valid or not and then address it, because remember you're an unlimited being. you really can have whatever you want and your desire already exists within you, so don't keep yourself away from that. return back to you, the true you. 　 you might be putting it off because you dont feel good enough or like it's something you can have right now, but it is!! in the 4d you can instantly imagine this be yours right now. did that require you becoming worthy enough? waiting? no.. so why not keep doing it. 4d = 3d, and i know right now that makes it seem annoyingly simple but never forget that fact. the 4d will always express into the 3d, always. 　

♡ 𓈒　Make the desire feel normal to you.

right now you might be feeling really worked up over this desire and placing it on this pedestal, and the more you put it off the bigger it seems to you. but we dont want that, we want to make this thing feel normal to us, we want it to be normal to us. so just tackle it right now instead of letting it build up as something unobtainable to you. you can take it slowly and take small steps, but do something! anything is better than nothing. know you don't need 100% effort, effort, or high vibes at all to manifest what you want. you just need you! 　 and please note that once you start it might feel like you're climbing a huge mountain. it might feel uncomfortable to you. repelling even, but that just means your mind is starting to notice a change. so keep going! be consistent! let it become natural to you and familiarize it with your mind. 　

♡ 𓈒　The 3d should not be the boss of you.

you're waiting because you just can't comprehend how it could happen in the 3d right now. the 3d looks completely unfavorable and it looks like there's no way you could have this right now. WRONG!! stop letting the 3d make your decisions for you. did you forget who the boss is here?? who the 3d listens to?? you... that's like looking at your dog and waiting for it to put its leash on even though um... that's what you supposed to do. 　 so stop basing your decisions off the 3d and start making them off your power, which is unlimited. you want to manifest that thing? go right ahead. but i- nope. but this- NOPE. do it anyways. i do not care how much opposition you're facing, claim it anyways. that is called persisting. doing it anyways. 　

♡ 𓈒　Have the audacity to go all in on it.

doesn't look like you could have it in the 3d right now? great. the version you were a second ago couldn't possibly be capable of manifesting this? cool. you barely believe this is going to work and actually manifest? alright. does not fucking matter!!! belief is not required to manifest things... and some part of you even if it's a little bit, must have faith inside you if you're even entertaining the idea of manifesting this. surely you don't 100% not believe that manifesting is real otherwise you wouldn't even be reading this. so use that 10% of faith and run with it. use it. in fact this should feel so powerful to you that you're manifesting this despite not believing despite not ever experiencing this before and despite everything that told you no a moment ago. you can do this, so fucking do this. do this for the version of you that you were a second ago who really wanted this. show yourself that you can have this, because you can. 　

♡ 𓈒　Ok but now go and actually manifest it..

the whole point of you reading this was not to finish it and go back to waiting. nope! go and manifest it now boo! and how can you do this? well just start claiming you have it. have the audacity to assume you have it. whether or not you do that by telling yourself delulu is the solulu, you tell yourself that you're now the version of you who has it, or you're just straight up feeling like a crazy maniac and still claiming it, i dont care!! just make the mental shift however you can. 　 also try not to hesitate on that shift, go all in. when you leave no room for question there wont be any questions in the 3d either, the 3d will just reflect it. show the 3d who you are by being that person within. 　 it doesn't matter what the 3d looks like - the 3d listens to you, it doesn't matter who you were a second ago - you're now the version of you who has the thing, and it doesn't matter whether or not you believe you can have it - persist and it will end up true anyways. so go on and do it!! you can do it, but will you? hopefully. 　

♡ 𓈒　Summary

➛　there is no better time to start than right now. ➛　you only experience the now so claim it right now. ➛　start familiarizing the desire with your mind to make it normal. ➛　how the 3d looks doesn't matter, you control what it shows you. ➛　persist, persist, persist. doubts do not matter. ➛　claim you have it right now and don't look back.

#law of assumption #manifestation #manifest #loa tumblr #loassumption #loablr #loa blog #loassblog #loa #neville goddard #loass post #loassblr #manifesting #sammy ingram #loa community #audacity

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iratempestatis · 17 hours ago

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I made a post about Xiao having the potential to be a shitty father, but you know what- the opposite is just as likely.

Again, it's difficult to emphasise the potency of his paranoia. He, better than anyone, would know just how fast and how suddenly things can go wrong. He could never be cautious enough. He could never love enough.

Mortals emulate the love they've received. For Xiao, love is a distant but incredibly fond memory.

His formative years were spent slaving away for a cruel god- those events were just a deluge of misery. He was taught, in his youth, that love was nothing but a fleeting fog- that it is power that forms the stuff of sweet dreams. His childhood was a deluge of misery.

He'd at least know what to avoid.

Sure, love found him in the form of his siblings- and you, of course- overwhelming adoration. But that's not the same as the love a parent has for their child, yes?

Xiao would need to fathom- on his own- what love would have to mean for him.

Xiao has no love to emulate from his childhood- and so he'd at least know what to avoid.

In his youth, his naivete was exploited- and so the child would never be punished for theirs. By the skies and the sands and the seas, he'd do anything, anything to keep them from feeling bad for knowing less, for being small. He'd listen intently to their mindless chatter, be an incredible attentive listener to the most puerile chatter, acknowledge every complaint with the utmost gravitas.

Being made to forego his own instincts, forget his own intelligence and just being forcibly morphed into a desperate bloodhound would be a most painful memory, and so the child would be given a startling amount of autonomy- within reason. Xiao does not have mortal parents, and an elder telling the baby “because I said so!” would make him froth at the mouth in a rage. He'd tell the tiny fucker every reason for every action if they asked. Sure, he can't really make it eloquent, but he can always try to at least answer.

“Why do I have to sleep at nine? I don't want to sleep at nine!”

“You have to sleep at nine because you have school tomorrow.”

“I won't go!”

“That's foolish.”

“Why.”

Every why would find a patient answer. Your baby would be the most articulate six year old on any playground pretty much anywhere.

Xiao would also never place any restraints on food- again, within reason. “You can't have candy for dinner because it's not good for your health, but if you want more chicken, that can be arranged.”

“We're out of chicken!” the child would howl and he'd tell them to say that again, politely, and when they acquiesced and quietly protested "but we're out of chicken!" he'd go off to buy and cook more.

The little runt gets caught stuffing food into their mouth at two in the night? He'd panic. Does he not feed the child enough? He's never been more ashamed of himself. He's a failure of a parent. You have to stop him from staring into space with an anguished expression and gently explain that kids- and well, adults too- just get hungry sometimes.

He'd sternly tell the tiny creature to wake him next time. Why? Because they're too small to use the stove on their own. Why? Because they're not old enough to have the motor skills to use it safely. Why? Because everyone needs to do some growing and get some practice before they can. Why? He really doesn't know. That's just how mortals are. He hopes that's a satisfactory answer.

The child's a picky eater? He'll try to convince them, but he'd never force them to eat something that really does disgust them. Even the thought of it is enough to spark echoes of the past, whispering voices that call for violence and stolen dreams. It makes him nauseous.

The child doesn't like boiled broccoli? That's fine. Would they prefer it cooked into cutlets? That's great. No boiled eggs? What do you have against boiled things, tiny creature? It feels gross? Fine. Would you prefer your eggs poached, on toast?

He discovers that's a messy thing to feed a child.

So much of his life has been spent in solitude. The cool sting of loneliness is an intimate friend, and so he'd let himself be summoned at a moment's notice. The child's bored? What would they prefer to do?

They have a tennis match? The thought of teeny tiny mortals swinging their minuscule arms at a ball flying all over the place nearly makes him smile. He bites it back on instinct, then sees the earnest expression on the ankle biter before him, and lets it escape. He'd never keep a smile from something so precious, so deserving of everything he can contrive and more, more, more.

Anyway, of course he shows up. Maybe not in the crowd with the other parents, but he watches regardless.

Xiao is strict about a curfew. It's one thing he'll never budge on, and it's the same for all his children, if for some reason you want more than one tiny creature running amok causing chaos, and expecting rationale from you before they acquiesce to your requests. He lives in terror of anything happening to the baby, and he's taken care to ensure his name always being on the tip of their tongue the moment they suspect danger.

He'd be so terrified of being a bad father that he'd end up being the very opposite.

(nuance in the reblogs thanks to @sizzles-z-4002 !! Thank you <3)

#honestly i could go on and on but i have to go be productive now so </3 #he gets nice parent privileges because i did NOT forget to give my cat her multivitamins today <3 #it took a while because she really is too smart to be tricked into eating them #and she was a feral + adult menace when i got her #so i never actually got to teach her to take pills #if anyone has any advice I'd appreciate that/gen #anyway i could go on about xiao being a parent basically forever because there's so many little instances that would warrant his attention #and he's not an unreasonable person #his brand of parenthood and affection would be very Xiao™#he'd sing that infant a love song from a tree so as to not karmic debtify the baby too but by god he'd sing it #xiao as a parent #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #grabs you

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brewing-radianite · 15 hours ago

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WHY WE FIGHT MUSIC VIDEO LORE THOUGHTS

-killjoy got royally FUCKED, ggs (presumably a bullet wound probably to her abdomen? we never see the wound itself, but she has trouble standing and is coughing up blood before she gives in to her injuries)

-traumatized nanobomb <3

-I know we see clips of Reyna with Lucia, Brim with His BoyToy* (*unconfirmed, but more than likely KAY/O), Phoenix with Mary (make her playable you cowards, we have so few black agents in this game...), and Sage using her res.

-Sage's res was kinda teased for years to have unknown consequences. It seems she sacrifices her own life force and strength, crystalizing and exhausting herself to bring others to life. That being, it's very unclear and poorly portrayed what repeated or long term use of this may lead to. Could Sage one day petrify herself? Does the crystallization go away on its own, just with enough rest between resurrects? Either way, it spares a good reason why Sage does not use her res often in canon and it's better to keep someone alive to begin with; she pays the price and could one day be permanently lost.

-We see Mary and Phoenix on a rooftop, seemingly witnessing the First Light. Highly unconfirmed, such is Riot's style of story-telling when they feel like story-telling, but I'm willing to bet. She's also seen inside the school burning to the ground at the time it happened, though I'm not sure if this is purely a visual transition or to imply Mary was in fact trapped in the fire to some degree.

-i love nanobomb and love seeing them but i can't say much was added or changed in terms of lore. they're exactly the same, save for a little more trauma of KJ having died, and come back. not really a whole lot to dissect there!

-Reyna and Lucia are together on a beach shoreline, seeing the First Light pour through their horizons as well. At this time, Lucia immediately drops to the floor and presumably enters her comatose state. Is her body too weak to accept the rush of Radianite in the air and in her veins? We know Radiants of a variety of strengths exist, and VALORANT employs some of the strongest. Could she have unknowingly "inherited" (for lack of a better word) a power too strong for her own body to handle?

anyways banger song and banger video but in the grand scheme of things, it just raised more small questions than answered any big revelations. that being said, always love this cast and always love the music videos. happy 5 years of valorant!

#valorant #valorant lore #official lore #my thoughts #reyna #sage #killjoy #brimstone #tariq #mary #nanobomb #valorant raze #valorant sage #valorant reyna #valorant brimstone #valorant phoenix #valorant mary

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lovestory · 2 days ago

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i haven't really felt like opening tumblr at all this year, but it was obviously very moving when i saw taylor's post about her masters, and i thought of this community immediately. i thought about the day when we found out scooter had bought the masters initially, posting about it, and taylor seeing those posts we made on here. i feel pretty inclined to share this with you: i got a new job, i started last week - and it pays more than double what my last job did. i'm the in house graphic designer for a huge commercial construction company now, they take really good care of me, and i've dropped out of uni because i have found success and love for design again. i didn't even know opportunities like that existed in the small area i live in, and i definitely didn't think they'd choose me.

in january i made the decision to leave tumblr. aside from a general disinterest and struggling massively with my mental and physical health, i was just tired. being treated the way i was online since before i even turned 13 was exhausting. i had people in my inbox when i was a minor sending me sexual messages and begging me to post my prom pictures, people making "gossip" blogs about me, people sending me my address, people sending me three part messages about why they hate me. whenever i'd say i hated this kind of behaviour, people would blame me for not turning my ask box off. last year in particular i'd dealt with a couple of stalking incidents and completely closed myself off from people contacting me on here. but instead of respecting that, i would just have other blogs get anons about me. one day i saw a mutual get a message about me, and half the shit they were saying just wasn't even true, and i'd just fucking had enough. i just wanted to step away and be a fan in a different way for awhile and try to focus on getting better. consume content and think what i thought without people arguing or making vague posts in response.

i moved out of our rental in april. as we were moving out, it led to the discovery that the entire house was infested with black mould that had been painted over/covered up when it was renovated. this mould was making me incredibly sick after living with it for so long, my entire body was covered in hives every day, i couldn't breathe, i couldn't keep my eyes open, i felt awful. our new house is finished being built, they're just doing the landcaping. i can't explain how sick i felt every day, and what a relief it is to not be in that kind of pain anymore, and to not be renting anymore.

i've always felt like i was working harder than everyone else just to compensate for the fact that i'm me. it was so liberating to walk in for an interview and know i had exactly what they needed. it was so liberating to be offered so much money for what i do, no arguments, no telling me that they couldn't afford to pay me decently. i nearly gave up on graphic design, i loved it too much to let it be ruined. i'm not afraid to say that i'm good at what i do anymore, i approach my work with confidence. for six years i've worked as the only employee for two separate businesses, being paid worse than anyone else i know, and i'm so relieved to be working with people again - talking to people my age. the isolation was killing me.

it makes me emotional looking at my blog as an archive now, i am so proud of all the little things i made over the years and what i contributed. being a fan of taylor was my life for so long and the only thing i held onto to keep going, i love the records of hers that i have, i love the memories, i love that she used to see my posts. and i'd be lying if i said what the fandom has turned into hasn't turned me off from participating. i will never return to tumblr in the capacity i once was, but if i ever get a thought or an itch to make something fandom related, i'll post it. i guess it felt important to share how drastically, a lot of you have followed me for over 10 years now. i really had to push myself to bring myself out of where i was stuck, it was really hard. but it's okay now.

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theowensturniolo · 3 days ago

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Moth to a flame

Wc:1000

Chris sturniolo x reader

Warnings: toxic relationships

Inspired by “Moth to a Flame” by Swedish House Mafia & The Weeknd

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

You met Chris on a Tuesday. Not that the day mattered, but you remembered it vividly—because he looked at you like no one ever had.

It was supposed to be just a group hangout. You were friends with Nick first, and when the boys brought you along to grab smoothies and walk Melrose, Chris barely said a word. But his eyes followed you. Quietly. Cautiously. Like he already knew what was going to happen between you, and he was afraid of it.

The second time you saw him, he smiled. And just like that—you were gone.

It started innocently. DMs turned to long FaceTime calls. Group hangouts became one-on-one late-night drives. You told yourself it was platonic. He had a girlfriend. You respected that. But then he started saying things that felt too personal for just friends.

“She doesn’t really get me like you do.”

“You calm me down. Like… everything feels quieter when I’m with you.”

He never touched you—until he did.

⸻

Now, months later, you lay in bed while rain tapped softly against your window, replaying the way his fingers always trembled right before he kissed you. He was afraid of this—of you—but not enough to stay away.

You hadn’t seen him in over a week. That was his idea.

“We have to stop. I owe it to her to be better,” he’d said.

You agreed. Not because you wanted to—but because it hurt too much to keep being someone’s secret.

And yet, at 1:47 a.m., your phone buzzed. You stared at his name glowing on your screen like a warning sign, like a fire alarm you didn’t have the strength to silence.

You answered. You always did.

“Chris?”

He didn’t respond right away. You heard the low hum of his car engine, a sigh, then his voice—quiet, like it wasn’t meant for the world to hear.

“I tried,” he whispered. “I swear I tried.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “You shouldn’t be calling me.”

“I know,” he said. “But you’re the only one who feels real right now.”

You hated how your heart reacted to that. How it skipped, how it ached. He had someone else. Someone who posted pictures with him. Someone he brought to events. Someone he could actually hold in public.

But he was yours when no one else was looking.

And that was the worst kind of love—because it never got to be more than a shadow.

—

He showed up outside your apartment twenty minutes later.

You were already waiting by the door.

You opened it before he could knock.

His hoodie was damp from the rain, his curls stuck to his forehead. But his eyes… they held the same storm you’d been drowning in since the night he first kissed you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, voice thin.

He stepped inside anyway.

“You always say that,” he murmured, pulling his hood back, “but you never stop me.”

You didn’t respond. Because he was right. Because your body betrayed your mind every time. Because his presence was gravity, and you were helpless to resist.

He stepped closer. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

But you couldn’t. You never could.

So when he leaned in—tentative, almost scared—you met him halfway.

The kiss wasn’t careful. It wasn’t sweet. It was messy, desperate. His hands cupped your jaw like he was afraid you’d disappear. Like this was the only place he felt okay.

And maybe, for him, it was.

—

Later, you lay tangled together, your head resting on his chest. The storm outside had passed, but the one between you never did.

“Do you love her?” you asked softly.

You felt his breath catch beneath you. He didn’t answer right away.

“She’s good,” he said finally. “She’s… everything I should want.”

“But she’s not me,” you finished for him.

Chris turned to face you, eyes filled with something sharp and broken. “You’re the worst decision I can’t stop making.”

You smiled bitterly. “Like a moth to a flame.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

You didn’t ask if he would leave her. You didn’t want to hear the lie.

You both knew the truth—he’d go back. He always did. But he’d be back again, too. When the silence got too loud. When her love felt too soft and yours felt like fire.

You hated yourself for letting it continue.

But love like this wasn’t logical. It wasn’t clean.

It was chaos. It was nights spent waiting for a text you shouldn’t hope for. It was kisses that tasted like guilt and promises never spoken aloud. It was knowing better and doing it anyway.

You were the mistake he never stopped making.

And he was the flame you’d never stop chasing.

Hope yall enjoyed it

Part 2??

Taglist: @sturnsblogs

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo edit #sturniolo smut #sturniolo

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