#and im aware that im just one person and not all the blame is at me but some is and i will apologize ANYWAY BC THATS JUST WHO I AM
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the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.
capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.
now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.
and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.
and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.
and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".
it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"
#this was much longer i had to cut it down for legibility#but i do want to say i am aware this post doesnt touch on human rights violations as a result of fast fashion#that is because it deserves its own post with a completely different tone#i am an environmental educator#so that's what i know the most about. it wouldn't be appropriate of me to mention off-hand the real and legitimate suffering#that people are going through#without doing my research and providing real ways to help#this is a vent post about a thing i'm watching happen; not a call to action. it would be INCREDIBLY demeaning#to all those affected by the fast fashion industry to pretend that a post like this could speak to their suffering#unfortunately one of the horrible things about latestage capitalism as an activist is that SO many things are linked to this#and i WANT to talk about all of them but it would be a book in its own right. in fact there ARE books about each level of this#and i encourage you to seek them out and read them!!! i am not an expert on that i am just a person on tumblr doing my favorite activity#(complaining)#and it's like - this is the individual versus the industry problem again right because im blaming myself#for being an expert on environmental disaster (which is fucking important) but not knowing EVERYTHING about fast fashion#i'm blaming myself for not covering the many layers of this incredibly complicated problem im pointing out#rather than being like. yeah so actually the fault here lies with the billion dollar industries actually.#my failure to be able to condense an incredibly immense problem that is BOOK-LENGTH into a single text post that i post for free#is not in ANY fucking way the same amount of harm as. you know. the ACTUAL COMPANIES doing this ACTUAL THING for ACTUAL MONEY.#anyway im gonna go donate money while i'm thinking about it. maybe you can too. we can both just agree - well i fuckin tried didn't i#which is more than their CEOs can say
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As much as I love overwatch, I am so sick of people being mean. It seems like 90% of games whichever losing side either blames their tank or support when 90% of the time it's definitely not either. Also I only play quick play games so these don't even matter. I can understand being upset if you're playing competitive but people still don't need to be rude. Quick play is supposed to be fun. I usually get people commenting on me being a one trick but if I play anyone else then I get told I suck. How am I supposed to learn new characters if I get bullied from trying them? And especially now that there's only one tank I constantly see "tank diff" in the chat. Like grow up. It is very rarely only one person's fault that a game is lost and that's usually because they leave or they are literally not trying and just running around saying hi to the enemy team. No way was it all the tanks fault. And it's literally always the damage players complaining about it. Like maybe you're losing because you keep saying rude shit in the chat and you're bringing morale down and nobody wants to play with you.
#idk if the age group is just super young or if its literally just assholes that play but they need to do something about it#i feel like in the old overwatch it was easier to report people#but im also still new to this so maybe i just dont know how yet#and i mainly feel bad for the other people that have to play with them or when someone says something about my teammate#like i dont give a shit what people say to me personally#being a mercy one trick will give you a thick skin lol#but like i cant help but think about the next healer they play with#because it still does suck#like i get over it and continue like i dont see the comments but i wouldnt blame someone for stopping from healing them#any time someone on my team says something mean about our other healer i make sure to be extra aware of that healer and keep them alive#and ill take care of the asshole if they stop because i dont expect them to put up with them#the best though is when you start with a really toxic person and youre losing so badly that it genuinely hurts#and then they leave and all of a sudden you win#like yeah it was totally everyone else dude#overwatch
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i get slightly annoyed when people make community posts that tell ppl to stop doing xyz and use the phrases "they're a FICTIONAL character, theyre NOT REAL" to justify whatever theyre saying because:
1) everyone knows that already, we're all aware these are blorbos from our media;
2) if someone is genuinely struggling to grasp that because of a delusion or similar, a forceful reality check is only going to cause harm rather than help;
3) it just feels so needlessly patronizing;
4) most of the time whatever I see people complaining about is either smth that I never see anyone doing or if it is smth somebody is doing then the block button is a very quick and effective fix for the issue (or even a quick convo w the person in DMs can resolve issues!)
(granted I keep my following circle very small and probably miss a lot but if i can do that then perhaps... perhaps other people can do it too fhfkdl like just prune back whatever u dont like seeing! unfollow or block as needed!)
#speaking as someone who has experienced and occasionally still experiences delusions!!!#reality checks do not help unless we ask for them directly! it's only going to make things worse if u force one on us!#also yes im aware of the hypocrisy of me making a post complaining abt things#but its often just this one phrase that i will see in otherwise decent posts that go around#and im not about to unfollow ppl just bc of this one phrase being used in a post or two that they might've rbed fhfjdl#also this is a niche thing to know about i think? like i dont think most ppl know a lot about delusions#.... as evidenced by ppl using delulu as a quirky meme word. god that one makes me tired and frustrated fjfkdl#but yeah normally i keep complaints and annoyances to myself but this one i figured might actually be helpful to talk about here#since i know theres probably a lot of ppl who have no idea that this is a thing that can actually make things worse rather than better#and like. theres bigger fish to fry i know that! this is a relatively small thing all things considered#but i feel like perhaps if i can make life a little easier for one other person who struggles w mental health then its worth it#if i can convince one person to be more mindful of their language to make the world slightly safer for fellow mentally ill folks then yay!#and i know the internet doesnt need to cater to us crazies but fhdkdl it'd be cool if ppl could just be a tad kinder or more thoughtful#again! not shaming or blaming and I'm not even upset w anyone#ppl genuinely just do not know abt this stuff unless a loved one or they themselves struggle w delusions or psychosis etc#and even then oftentimes its such a stigmatized topic that even ppl who struggle w it themselves might not know or realize it#anyways. climbing down off my soapbox like a kitten clumsily climbing off of a tall couch SBDJSKL#dandy.cmd
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fh fandom back to wishing death on a fictional teenager for being mentally ill and not learning how to cope with that in a healthy way. what else is new
#do i think klck is correct? no#do i think a fandom full of grown adults should stop holding this (manipulated) (not sound of mind) teenager to wack standards? ya#like.... some of you are... how do i say this.... ~projecting~#and dont get me wrong this isnt me trying to say shes some kind of innocent misunderstood blorbo 🥺🥺🥺#i think shes a freak and a cunt. but im going to be normal about it and NOT say that she deserves to be killed (????)#pre-overtaking she was clearly aware that her behavior wasn't healthy#the fact she even went to jawbone at all (and was honest with him!) proves that imo#personally i feel like she might be neurodivergent -> struggling with knowing which rules to break and which ones to not#we literally JUST had an episode where the principal of AAA told students to their face that studying and working hard is dumb#i think kipperlilly came to aguefort. couldn't get a grip on what they Actually wanted from her#(parents went to mumple. she couldnt have been prepared for aguefort)#and out of frustration she fixated on people who were doing well and compared herself to them#and the only major surface difference she could find? tragic backstories#it only makes sense that she'd assume that THAT is what was missing. her inability to adapt to AAA was out of her control#so instead of blaming smth abstract (neurodivergence/other mental illness)#this single. concrete. and obvious difference is way easier to latch on to#but yeah. imo she just reads as someone super neurodivergent who received No Help because she 'made do'#and when thrown into a situation that required a skillset she wasn't born with. she shut down and got defensive#noone is born wanting to die yadda yadda#i think it's very interesting that when jawbone turned the question around on her (asking what SHE could do to get better)#she got quiet and awkward#its almost like she was trying her best? and just couldn't figure out where to go next?#and OH would you look at that. jace offering her a trip to the mountains of chaos. for a ~super dangerous adventure~#🙄#anyway.#awfully convenient. isn't it.#this has been me. having takes on ms goldendoodle shibainu#goodnight everyone (its noon)#not tagging this out of fear of the *** stans out there who will not stop taking things personally
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"Finally it charged time to transfer the Marie piece and finish all the shipart—"
*random Aiden 30 minute [something] instead appearing*
#FUN FACT he has crippling social anxiety and also bunch of other issues i will NOT be explaining at 1am i know my limits#but he has a habit of blaming himself for the smallest mistakes or just not understanding social cues and then punishing himself#(krenia is not projectingYOURE projecting)#depending on what point in plot i draw him at hes either a normal happy dude in a relationship#or like a complete wreck who constantly damages his own body in more ways that one#again depends on where we are#it took a lot to get him out of the “if im not useful i dont deserve basic human rights” mindset#oh long infodump no im locking the knowledge for later#he spent like 15 years of his life not as a person is all im going to say#everyone who sees this never looked at arknights so im not going further#for now#i cannot stay quiet for long as you may been aware by now#OH god long rant yeah no this is the end back to killing my wrists#procreates text tool sucks ass also#my art#aiden-oc
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😃
#kats personal#so i had referally sent to a clinic early last year for an assessment#and i called them up a few months later bc i still hadnt heard back and they told me to call back if i hadnt heard by end of week#and then stuff happened and i forgot to call back and also i just forgot bc i forget lol#and i finally got through to them just then and 🥲 turns out no ones accepting new clients#< this year/as of current#but also like last time i called the referral had already been sent to all available psychs at the clinic and no one had accepted it#so their books were pretty much closed at the time#and idk if im frustrated at myself for not chasing it up more often#or at the clinic/system for not informing me that my ref was just sitting there collecting dust for the last few months#oops sorry for typos lol#but yeah so ive. been waiting since last april#and now im probably gonna have to wait another year#and idk i know i should hsve checked up earlier but why coukdnt they have just told me if no one was accepting it before 😭😭#(im aware i may be trying to pudh the blame off myself)#idk just really frustrated rn 😕
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Apolgozing on gaia dot com again bc i once again caused a big problem
#me tryijng to help and make sense of things#actually made things worse and now people are fighting over everything when it was never supposed to be that deep#but who am i to not make a puddle into the mariana trench#and im aware that im just one person and not all the blame is at me but some is and i will apologize ANYWAY BC THATS JUST WHO I AM#the last 12 years of my life online has been me doing the worst clown act on stage#it does bring back a lot of older communities i caused problems in#will i ever learn?#why do i keep doing thing when people say to stop?#I'm stupid.#the mental touching of the hot stove daily for 12 years
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THE BOY IS MINE - ( m.s )
REQUESTED**
summary- after years of friendship, you’ve seen matt date people before, but none of them have been as bad as this new one. you’ve never interfered with any of the girls in the past, but one night she takes it too far and your true feelings come out.
warnings- cursing, unprotected sex (pretend ur on birth control but also wrap it before you tap it), choking, cheating, dom!matt, it’s smut with a plot guys are we surprised (read at ur own fucking discretion PLEASE!)
a/n: thank you @stonermattsgf for the request!! i fucking loved this concept and the song eats down i hope i did u some justice <3 the touch it chris fic will be coming too cuz im fuckin with that song as well (if you weren’t tagged it wouldn’t let me tag you, i’m sorry!!)
@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @sturnioloco @mattinside @l9vesick @sturnsblunt @ev3rgreenxtrees @wh0resstuff @matthewsmocktails @cherrypostsposts @bxbynyah7 @seababehh @sturnsfav @mattsluv @sturniolossss @melanch0lybby @sturniolos-blog @lustfulslxt @sturnioloobssesd @ginswife @amypull @vivianalovesmatt @st4niolos @sturnioloobessed @sturnlova @bigbeefybitch @minhyucks @iheart-zegras @vicsguitarr @melonjollyranche @hearts4matty @vickyzloserz @user8000000 @xoxo4chrisss @unfilteredassmf @mattsbiggesthoe @chrisstopherfilmed @st3rniolo @goldengrapejuice @luv2matt @vsangel-starbies @mikaelabutterfield @mattnchrisworld @bluesturniolo333 @wurlibydominicfike @kp07on @hayleyreadsblog
in no universe did you expect to be pining after one of your best friends.
it had always been strictly platonic between you and matt, aside from a little harmless flirting over the years. you loved him and his brothers so much that you never wanted to mess anything up, or complicate things when the dynamic was already perfect.
but as much as you’re close with each of them, you know you’ve always understood matt on a deeper level. you share the same goals, the same fears, even the same taste in music and movies.
he’s always been the first person to check in, the only one who can read your mood like the back of his hand, the guy who cheers you up and lets you cry on his shoulder when things are shitty.
despite these sweet gestures, you’ve both had your fair share of relationships and flings while being best friends. none of them have ever bothered you before, and you’ve always tried to be respectful and kind to whichever girl he picks.
that is, until now.
matt is sitting across from you on the couch in their living room, slight frown etched on his face. his girlfriend, maya, has her legs sprawled across his lap comfortably, arms linked like she’s claiming him.
her eyes are practically locked on you. you don’t blame her; she’s well aware that you’re not her biggest fan.
all she does is complain about all of the things she doesn’t like about matt. last time she hung out with you guys, she was bitching about the fact that he kissed her in public at a party, as if she was worried he was scaring off other guys.
when he buys her flowers, they’re the wrong ones. if he takes her to dinner, she whines about the food. she’ll even criticize his clothes, demanding that they match and he hides the tattoos. to her, he can’t do anything right, even though he’s incredible just the way he is.
so it drives you absolutely insane watching the way she walks all over matt, all over his brothers, even you. it’s been two months of this agony, and you can’t believe it’s even lasted this long.
you spend nearly every day thinking about how much better you could treat him. every time he touches you, no matter how briefly, your skin burns in desire. it’s selfish to want someone who’s taken, and you’re well aware of that.
but you just love matt, you know him. and he deserves better. maybe it’s you, maybe it’s not. but it’s certainly not maya.
“give it to me, fuckhead.” chris’s voice rips you out of your trance, and you snap your head toward the middle of the U-shaped sofa.
he’s currently fighting nick for the remote, who slaps the side of his arm rather hard. chris lets go, only to pull his brother into a headlock seconds later. nick lets out a yelp of surprise, jamming an elbow into his side to get him to stop.
in all the commotion, you decide to grab the remote for yourself, a wide smile settling across your features as you take it into your palm.
they both notice quickly, groaning in protest as you wave it at them tauntingly.
“too slow! now i get to pick, idiots.” you tease.
“c’mon, i just went to war for that thing.” nick complains, kicking your leg half-heartedly, but you just shake your head.
“snooze you lose.”
you scroll through your options, trying to pay no mind to the way maya is whispering to matt for so long she could be reciting the bible. then your eyes land on a title that makes you pause, chuckling a little to yourself.
“oh no way, they have fucking cocaine bear on here?” chris cackles.
nick looks rather amused himself, raising his eyebrows like he’s intrigued. “i mean, i’m game.”
you glance over at matt, who’s already looking at you with a grin on his face. he mentioned the movie to you a little while ago, and how he just had to see how stupid it was eventually.
“why would we waste our time watching this shit? isn’t it supposed to be awful?” maya chimes from beside him, and your gaze narrows in on her.
“it’ll be funny, you know, ‘cause it’s so bad.” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.
she tilts her head to the side slightly, studying you with disapproving eyes. “yeah, i’m not so sure about trusting your taste. i mean, that god-awful outfit is just one example.”
the air seems to be sucked out of the room as you grip your sweats self-consciously. nobody moves, nobody speaks. you feel the anger flare up in your veins as you look at matt, wondering if he’s going to step in like he should.
but he doesn’t. in fact, he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. so you square your shoulders and turn your focus back to the girl you dislike so much. you’re done with the passive aggressive comments, with all of the bullshit glares and insults.
you’re done letting her bulldoze you. if matt wants to go through that, fine. but he doesn’t have to take everyone down with him by subjecting them to maya’s presence.
“well, you seem to be the only one who has a problem with my taste, so maybe you should just leave.” you say calmly, smiling sarcastically at the end because you can’t help it.
her mouth pops open, and you can hear chris and nick trying to stifle their gasps and chuckles. even the corner of matt’s lips turn up, which makes you wonder.
maya turns to look at her boyfriend, completely astonished. “are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?”
he seems conflicted as he briefly looks your direction, clearing his throat to buy some time. you tilt an eyebrow, crossing your arms like you’re just waiting for him to pick his side.
she may have asked the question, but now you’re dying to know the answer.
“maya is right. and, uh, i think you should apologize.” matt fumbles with his words, unable to speak to you directly.
you feel the fury work its way up your face, and you force yourself to blink away the burning sensation of frustrated tears. maya looks far too satisfied, and you want to slap the smirk off of her face.
but you know you can’t lay hands on her, so you decide your words will have to be your knives.
“you know what, i am sorry,” you begin, raising your hands in surrender.
they’re both a bit surprised by this change in direction, so after a brief pause, you continue.
“i’m really sorry that you’re dating a stuck up bitch. i’m sorry that she’s constantly taking advantage of your kindness. i’m sorry that she treats you like shit, that she talks down to you like you’re a child, that she’s never satisfied with the things you do. and i’m especially sorry that you continue to let her, because you can do so much better.”
if maya’s eyeballs could pop out of her skull, you would imagine it would be exactly like how she looks right now. matt is also slack jawed beside her, and you can’t be near him any longer.
so you stand up, turning to leave the boy you love so much without another word.
the fresh night air of spring is a relief once you step out the front door, and you try to let it calm you as you hustle toward your car. you can already feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket as you move, presumably nick and chris.
you hope they’re not angry. it’s bad enough knowing that you’ve royally fucked things up with matt, but you couldn’t bare it if all three of them hated you.
you practically toss yourself into the drivers seat, slamming the door closed with a force that shakes the entire vehicle. you’re peeling out of the driveway before you can even reflect on the consequences of your actions, speeding home as if your life depended on it.
your ringtone continues to erupt as you drive along the backroads, but you force yourself to ignore it for the time being.
only once you throw the car into park in your own driveway do you check the messages, scrolling through the numerous notifications. unsurprisingly most of them are from nick and chris like you presumed, wondering if you’re alright and applauding you for finally standing up to the wicked witch of the west.
for a brief moment, their kind words make you feel better.
but then your eyes catch a contact that you actually don’t expect; matt’s. you stare at your device, throat going completely dry. a missed call and two texts.
matt
i’m coming over
don’t bother saying no, im already on my way
that was five minutes ago, which means he’s not too far behind you. you tear out of your car and across the yard, throwing the door open carelessly.
your heart is still slamming against your ribcage, and fear crawls up your throat as you press your back to the wood, kicking your flip flops off in the general direction of the coat rack.
your mind flashes to the idea of him yelling at you, which you suppose would be somewhat warranted. you’ve seen matt angry on a couple of occasions, and you can’t imagine he has anything kind to say to you right now.
you pace the foyer as you wait for his arrival, picking at the beds of your fingernails anxiously.
and then it happens; the loud knock on the front door, followed by another series of harsh slams.
impatient motherfucker.
you straighten up as your palm wraps around the knob, sucking in a breath before pulling it open to reveal a rather disheveled matt.
he’s breathing heavy, hair messy as if he’s been tugging at it for the entire drive. his earrings glint in the porch light as he stares at you like he’s trying to commit every feature to memory, wetting his lips hungrily.
“matt—”
you barely get his name out before he wraps his ring-clad fingers around your throat, pulling your mouth to his harshly. he molds against you perfectly, his other hand traveling to your hip to hold you flush against his own body.
he just couldn’t help it. he was so desperate on the entire ride over, replaying your outburst on a loop in his mind as he drove further and further away from his girlfriend. there’s been only a few occasions he’s seen you that upset, and your comments had been a necessary slap in the face.
plus, watching you fight for him when he was too much of a bitch to do it himself was a bigger turn-on than he’d like to admit.
all he’s ever wanted is you. and it shouldn’t have taken this long to admit it to himself.
matt guides you backwards, hand still squeezing your neck as he blindly kicks the door shut with one foot. you feel your back bump against the kitchen counter, and you’re trying to register what the hell is going on, but his kiss is so fucking intoxicating that it’s impossible to think clearly.
his tongue slides against yours passionately, and the flavored chapstick you’re wearing is driving him insane. you can feel him growing hard against your thigh as he toys with the elastic waistband of your pants suggestively.
you have no idea if this means it’s officially over with him and maya, but you find that you quite frankly don’t give a shit.
in this moment, he’s yours.
his fingers finally dip into your sweats a few seconds later, traveling down to brush against your clothed heat as he moves his mouth to your jaw sloppily. a breathy moan escapes before you can stop it, involuntarily rutting your hips against his cold rings in search of more friction.
one of your hands goes to grip the hair at the nape of his neck while the other claws at his back, desperately wrapping your knuckle around the cloth of his muscle tee.
“you like that?” matt grumbles against your throat, nipping at the skin as he begins to apply real pressure to your cunt in little circular motions.
your back arches and you tilt your head to the side so you can give him full access, silently hoping he’ll leave a mark behind.
“you’ve been thinking about me touching you like this, haven’t you? wishing i would come fuck you instead of her?” he questions further, moving his head slightly so he’s speaking directly into your ear.
the hand that was choking you slides down so he can grope your chest, his thumb running over one of your hardened nipples through the thin shirt you’re wearing. the combined pleasure has you whining in his grasp, a submissive sound that you wish you weren’t making.
you can feel him grinning as he presses his mouth to that sweet spot below your earlobe, his tongue darting out to wet the area.
“you want me just as much.” you manage to find your voice, though your claim is muttered with no conviction.
matt pauses his movements and brings both hands to your waistband again, which makes you whimper as you clench around nothing. his mouth finds yours briefly to swallow the sound, and he bites down on your bottom lip as he pulls away.
“you’re not wrong. so are you gonna give me what i want, baby?” he asks as he teases your sweats and panties just a little lower on your hips.
“keep going.” you plead.
you let go of your grip on his body so he can tug both items down to your ankles, helping you step out of their grasp before discarding them a couple feet away.
matt doesn’t immediately stand back up; instead he takes his time, kissing the side of your knees as his hands slide up the outside of your thighs. you feel so exposed, so on-display that you clench your legs together before you can help it.
he immediately pries them apart, shaking his head slightly with a little smirk. “don’t be shy now, you had so much to say earlier.”
his words spur you on, so you spread yourself wider, opting to grip the counter as he reattaches his lips to your inner thighs. matt inches closer and closer to where you really need him, taking his time to nip at the supple flesh that comes before.
he pulls away right when you think he’s finally about to put his mouth on you, letting his hot breath fan across your soaked center. it makes you shiver in anticipation, and you’re getting a little too needy now.
“quit fucking teas—oh shit.”
you throw your head back as his two fingers spread you apart, tongue coming in contact with the middle of your cunt as he laps at the wetness that had pooled there.
he slows his pace slightly after a moment, making sure to pay attention to the whole area, working his way up until his nose bumps against your clit. you spit a curse out, letting one hand go so you can grip his soft hair.
matt continues on, his lips closing around the sensitive bud so he can apply more pressure and suction. your gut flips at the sensation and your grip on his roots tightens as his mouth works.
he grumbles, loving the way you’re pulling at him so desperately. the noise sends vibrations through your core, which only makes the experience more enjoyable.
“fuckkk, matt, feels so good.” you praise dumbly, your words slurring.
the vocal admiration makes his pulse quicken, and at this point he’s straining against his jeans. he just can’t believe he’s got you like this, grinding your cunt against his face as if he’s the best you’ve ever had.
he can tell you’re growing closer just based on the little gasps and moans leaving your mouth, and your legs begin to shake ever so slightly. but he won’t let you finish just yet.
“want to be inside this pretty pussy.” he pulls away to say it, pressing one more wet kiss to the delicate area before he gets up.
you’re craving more, so you decide to take initiative, reaching for his belt and fumbling to undo the buckle. you tear it from the loops and toss it away, moving to his zipper as he reaches behind his head to tug his loose tank off.
his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in only his tented boxers. he’s quick to kick his shoes off, followed by his jeans right after.
then his hands go to your waist, fingers digging into the smooth flesh.
“up.” he instructs bluntly, helping lift you onto the end of the marbled countertop so he’s standing between your legs.
he lifts your shirt up next, and you help him out by throwing your arms above your head so he can fully remove it. his eyes train downwards, admiring the way your sheer bra hugs your tits. it hardly leaves anything to the imagination, and matt finds it extremely hot that you’ve been wearing it all night without him knowing.
before he can make a move, you surprise him by reaching back confidently to unhook the garment yourself. you let it slip from your shoulders before throwing it to your side, revealing your bare chest to him wordlessly.
he pulls his lip between his teeth as he exhales, gently guiding you downwards so your back is pressed flat against the cool surface. matt looks intimidating standing over you, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body.
“you’re so fucking sexy.” he says in awe, leaning down to give you another real kiss, a salty mix of sweat and arousal on his lips.
then he finds his way down to your collarbone, staying there shortly before traveling between the valley of your breasts. without warning, he presses his tongue flat across one nipple, flicking it back and forth.
you push your chest further into his face with a moan, both hands in his hair this time. he moves to the other perky bud, sucking on it as his teeth graze the tissue ever so slightly.
you’re practically writhing underneath him, and you can feel the pit growing in your stomach again. so even though it feels incredible, you yank his head back off of your chest by his hair.
“need you to fuck me.” you mutter, pushing his hair out of his face with both of your hands.
matt nods once, straightening so he can slide his underwear down. his erection finally springs free, pink tip glistening with precum. you watch as he spreads the wetness around, pumping himself in his hand a few times.
he’s bigger than you expected, and your mouth is watering just thinking about how much you want him to be pounding into you already.
“wrap your legs around me princess.” he commands gruffly, and you do just as you’re told, hooking your ankles behind his back.
his dick presses against your heat, and you buck against it to try and feel more. matt is quick to steady your hips roughly, holding you down against the edge of the counter as he teases himself into your entrance.
you both moan, his low and rumbling, yours high-pitched and greedy. you use your thighs to pull him closer, forcing him to drive into you fully so you can feel that pleasurable stretch.
“mmmn—fuck, you’re so tight.” he sighs, giving you another moment before he begins to drag his cock in and out at a steady pace.
you rock with him as best you can, finding the perfect rhythm so that he’s plowing his full length into you, filling the house with the sound of skin slapping skin.
matt lets one hand wrap around your neck again to choke you, tattoos on display as his muscles flex, and the pressure traps your lewd cries in your throat. his other fingers continue to toy with your nipples, which makes you arch off the counter, head rolled back as your eyes screw shut.
“look at you, taking me like such a good girl. just like i knew you would.” he compliments breathlessly.
he starts snapping his hips harder, enjoying the way your tits bounce as you slide slightly against the slick counter. you look so fucking beautiful, mouth partially open, barely able to squeak out a moan.
never in a million years did matt think he’d get the opportunity to fulfill all of his shamefully dirty fantasies about you, but here you are, completely naked and spread out in your own kitchen.
you’re squeezing around him now with every stroke, and he somehow keeps getting deeper, hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you jerk.
the familiar feeling of your abs tightening occurs as you get closer to your orgasm, and you swear you’re seeing stars at this point. he’s right there with you, a groaning mess as your fingers reach up to dig into his bicep.
“yes, matt, right there! m’gonna—” you fumble over your words, unable to finish the thought as the satisfaction builds.
he uses the last of his strength to drill into you, moving both hands back to your waist quickly so he can slam you down on his cock a few more times.
“come all over this dick baby, don’t hold back.”
you’re practically screaming his name as you hit your high, releasing all over him as his hot cum spills into you at the same time.
he slows his movements as you look up at him with bleary eyes, enjoying the last moments of being inside you before he pulls out. you feel your mixed arousal dripping out onto the counter, and you don’t even care that you’ll have to clean it up later.
that was completely worth the mess.
your chest continues to heave as you relish in the come down, dropping your thighs from his hips so he’s free to move around.
but matt stays between them, leaning down to capture your mouth with his one final time. it’s brief, but it means more than either of you truly understand.
he’s the one to break it first, pressing his forehead against yours before he speaks. “you’re incredible, you know that?”
you smile weakly, pushing against his chest to put some distance between the two of you. reality is creeping back in, reminding you that this was probably a one time thing.
“help me down?” you ask, and he complies.
matt lifts you a bit as you slide off the countertop, setting you back on real ground a second later. you’re not sure what to say as you stand before him, completely fucked out and terrified of whatever is coming next.
“so, um…i should probably get cleaned up.” you try to sound casual, even though you’re feeling anything but relaxed.
he immediately notices the switch in tone, the way you’re wrapping your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shrink away and hide. he’s also pretty sure he knows where this insecurity is coming from.
his fingers go to grip your chin gently, demanding that you look him in the face. your eyes widen as he brushes his thumb along your swollen bottom lip.
“i’m cutting things off with maya. i just…love you. and i’m sorry it took me so long.” matt finally admits.
it takes a second to click in your brain, but when it does a wide grin spreads across your face. butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you kiss the pad of his finger as he moves it along your mouth.
“i love you too, but i think you knew that already.” you tease playfully.
“yeah, maybe. but i like hearing you say it out loud.”
#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#Spotify#matt sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic#fanfic
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SOME* OF YA'LL ARE NEVER GOING TO GET YOUR DESIRES, AND YOU'LL HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME BUT YOURSELVES
*WARNING: TOUGH LOVE RANT. also, like everything in life, take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not doing anything i mention in this post, then this post doesn't apply to you.
before anyone comes for me, MOST of us are going through (or have gone through) hard circumstances. many of us have come from abusive households, abusive relationships, poverty, homelessness, & just overall bad circumstances.
but you know why the bloggers & anons who succeed in manifesting their desires/desired lives ACTUALLY SUCCEED?
because they took accountability for their current state and their limiting patterns.
because they were disciplined & determined enough to claim their desire(s), apply the law, & persist regardless of EVERYTHING.
because they knew that this practice would actually change their lives forever and allowed NOTHING to stand in their way.
AND GUESS WHAT? NOW THEY HAVE THEIR DESIRES/DESIRED LIFE!
if you were to be 100% honest and tell me why after months/years of being in this community you STILL haven't manifested your desires/desired life yet, what would be the answer?
overconsumption? procrastination? laziness? lack of persistence?
whatever the case may be, what i do know for a FACT is that it has been no one's fault but YOURS.
many of you guys come running on this platform; asking the same repetitive questions, complaining about not seeing results, whining about how sad your life is and how hard your circumstances are, or just straight up hating on some of these bloggers that are helping you FOR FREE, when they could be using that time to enjoy their desires/the life that they manifested for themselves.
LIKE...DO YOU REALIZE HOW PATHETIC & ENTITLED SOME OF YOU GUYS ARE?
"can you pleaseee manifest/tap into the void for me?" 🥺
"im so lazyyy, i can't be bothered to persist..." 🥱
"loa is FAKE! you guys are a bunch of lying b***hes..." 🤬
"my life is sooo hard, i have such a horrible life...*continues to trauma dump*" 😭
OHHH MYYY F*CKINGGG GODDD!
there are MILLIONS of people in the world who are in unfavorable/horrible circumstances that have NO IDEA what the law of assumption is, and have NO WAY to access this type of information!
you guys literally have the knowledge and awareness to make the most beautiful life possible for yourselves with JUST YOUR IMAGINATION, and yet, A LOT of you guys are the most ungrateful, lazy, irresolute, undisciplined whiners, who don't want to do even the BARE MINIMUM to change your entire lives!!
TRUST ME, everyone on this platform (including myself) understands that there will be setbacks. we all know that they are going to be bad days. we all understand that everyone has their own personal/mental issues. we get that life has obstacles and that not every day will be a win.
BUT, you guys NEED to put in the effort & not give up! you guys NEED to STOP letting your ego win! you guys NEED to get tf off of social media and stop overconsuming information. you guys NEED to claim your desires/desired life, stay consistent & persist until your desires/desired life has materialized.
because guess what, a day turns into a year pretty quickly, and you'll have gone another year of NOT having your desires/desired life, and it's going to be no one's fault but yourself...
do you REALLY want another year of watching everyone else get what they want besides you? do you REALLY want another year of not having your desired appearance, your sp, or financial freedom?
REALLY?
i hope the answer is no...because that's a HUGE waste of time that could be used to actually have the things & life you want.
everyone deserves to live the life they want...but at the end of the day, no one & nothing has the power to manifest the life you want but YOU.
#law of assumption#loa#manifest#manifesting#manifesation#spirituality#self concept#neville goddard#success story#void state#void success#void success story
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come on home
in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid
inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers
wc 2857
warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending
a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3
She hung up on you.
Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better.
Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either.
You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.
So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.
What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring.
“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there.
“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?”
Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows.
“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?”
“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.”
You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside.
“Nice, nice. What else?”
“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.”
“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening.
“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.”
A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself.
“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.”
“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.”
When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice.
“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”
You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.”
“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice.
“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.”
Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better.
“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.”
Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry.
“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.”
“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless.
“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.”
Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart.
“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.”
Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again.
“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle.
Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life.
“Then I’m on my way.”
Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.
After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime.
You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.
“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?”
You shake your head and gasp a small sob.
Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders.
His hand smooths over the back of your hair.
“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.”
You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.
Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear.
“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.”
“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight.
“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?”
“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.”
There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.”
You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea.
Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave.
“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.
At least, until he goes home.
Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up.
“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.
“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you.
“That among other things.”
“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?”
The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does.
“Okay.”
It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.
“Thanks,” you murmur.
His lips pull into a melancholy smile.
“Anytime.”
There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.
But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close.
“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist.
“I can’t do that, honey.”
“Why not?”
His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently.
“Because we’re not together anymore.”
“Why not?”
Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is.
Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down.
“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.”
In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.
“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.”
He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke.
“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.”
You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again.
“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.”
Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales.
“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.”
When he kisses you, it feels like home.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds
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Steve and Gareth as Cousins, no longer a warm-up and now called Lifelines, part three! I’ll throw it up on A03 when I finish the fourth part.
Prior parts can be read here: Part One / Part Two
First things first, the most amazing @ sereinpetrichor managed to track down the OG Twitter thread this runaway train is based off of!
It was this thread by @gatorthots, the Tumblr version of which can be read, here. All blame for this idea firmly rests on their brilliant, plot bunny inducing shoulders.
The other, follow up thread I mentioned was this one by Silas, whose tumblr name I do not know.
As always and forever, shout out to the most amazing @chalkysgarbagefire who helps me edit/plot/pats my head while I’m crying in their inbox bc the words aren’t wording right.
Warnings: Steve and Robin are canon (S3) drugged. I took a slightly (kinda sorta) more realistic approach. Vomit mention, canon threat of violence/guns (the Russian guards) Mention of pantsing/past bullying, Steve and Robin’s drugged asses not understanding personal space, Dustin’s canon...Im gonna go with assholishness? but like, I think its more than he’s a young kid and doesn't quite have the emotional growth/awareness yet in this kind of insane situation to know how to react to the whole address/torture bit (really who does)/its a defense mechanism--and Gareth sort of has a panic attack.
Whatever the hell they had been drugged with, Steve and Robin went from 'giggly happy fun time' to 'vomiting into toilet bowls while loudly wishing for death’ awfully fast.
Gareth was not an expert on drugs. He knew Eddie wasn't either (the guy never dealt anything stronger than your average psychedelic--had some agreement with his Uncle about only selling "the 70s basics") and repeated looks towards him proved Eddie was still trying to figure out what Steve and Robin were on.
Answers hadn't exactly been forthcoming--Eddie's gently made attempts at ferreting out information had only caused more confusion.
Like why the two of them were so freaked out about a gate, or what had made Robin gasp, and then laugh so hard she cried when Steve had made a particularly rough noise then muttered; "Even that sounds better than Tammy Thompson."
Either way, Gareth was mostly trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do, because sobering up in a busy, public mall wasn't exactly the best idea.
"I regret," Robin tried to say, in-between gagging. "I regret--hrk--"
"Me too." Steve moaned, head resting against the stall wall. Gareth, still caught up in panic, had been permanently regulated to door guard while Eddie alternated between sweet talking, rubbing backs and offering quietly whispered advice.
"Let's go back in time and ignore the whole silver cat thing." Robin continued, slumping back down onto the floor.
"Wouldn't have mattered." Steve muttered. "Dustin would have figured it out without us. Kid’s too damn smart."
"So?" Robin grumbled, quietly thanking Eddie as he once again brushed her hair out of her face.
"So he would have gone down there anyway, which means I'd be down there anyway." Steve concluded. "We shouldn't have gotten you involved though."
He shakily pushed himself up, staggering to his feet and looking like bambi on ice while doing it.
Eddie quickly came round to offer his help, hands spread as Steve groaned out a curse and clutched his head.
The older took a step forward right as Steve lurched back, unbalanced and shaky.
"Oh shit." He said, eyes wide as he crashed backwards into Eddie, the latter catching him with a grunt.
Despite the entire situation, Gareth found himself stifling a laugh as Eddie wrapped his noodle arms around Steve's chest, trying to hold the other up without falling himself.
"Come on big boy, why don't we just siiiit back down." Eddie said, slightly breathless as he helped guide Steve back to the floor. "There we go…"
They did so outside the bathroom stall, Eddie sinking into a kneel as Steve sort of flopped down on top of him.
Blinked a few times, like the drop had rattled what little sense he’d managed to recover in the last few minutes.
A pleased noise came out of his cousin's throat, and holy shit was Gareth going to have blackmail for life, because rather than vacate Eddie's lap, Steve just turned around in it.
Reached up with one finger outstretched and proved himself to be very much still under the influence as he touched Eddie's nose.
"Boop!" He said, and then giggled as Eddie dropped onto his ass in surprise.
Gareth watched Robin as she took the whole thing in, from Steve's snickers to Eddie's shocked expression, eyes growing wide in excitement.
He failed entirely to cover his own amusement when Eddie abruptly found himself with two sailors invading his personal space, each taking turns to boop his nose.
“Uh.” He managed to get out, blinking rapidly and at a loss for words. “Ah.”
Steve caught the metalhead’s awkward, red-faced expression and proceeded to drop his head to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter against the man's vest.
The helpless look his best friend sent him was one Gareth would remember for a long time.
“O-kay.” Eddie said, frazzled, as Steve recovered far too quickly, turning to rest his cheek against a slim shoulder as he walked two fingers up Eddie’s battle vest and towards his hair. Likewise, Robin had discovered Eddie’s wallet chain, and had begun fiddling with it.
One finger curled around a strand of brown hair and Eddie jerked his head, removing the tempting piece away from Steve’s hands.
“I know you’re used to getting whatever you want, your highness.” He said, his own hand smacking against his waist before Robin figured out the other end of his chain ended in a handcuff, “But you of all people should know the hair is off limits.”
Completely undeterred, Steve just gave him a loose, easy grin. “It’s so pretty though.” He complained, fluttering his eyelashes in a blatant attempt to try and turn on the ol’ Harrington charm. “You can touch mine if you want.”
Yeah, Gareth’s blackmail was getting better by the second.
He might even get a new piece for his drum kit out of it, if this kept up.
Free weed too, considering Eddie’s blush was now fire-engine red.
“Man,” Eddie said in a clear bid to deflect the entire situation (and Steve’s fingers) away from his hair, “the last time someone called me pretty was right before I got pantsed—-is Tommy H hiding in one of the stalls again?”
Steve picked his head up, confusion crashing down his face.
“Did he do that?” He asked.
Then, with growing horror; “Do you think I’d do that?”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that your whole little court’s M.O.?”
Steve sucked in a breath, looking downright hurt. "I wouldn’t do that." He insisted, eyes wheeling from Eddie to Gareth and back, as though hoping Gareth would back him up.
“I’m not--I’m not friends with Tommy anymore.” Steve continued, voice growing smaller as he spoke. “I’m not friends with anybody anymore, except maybe Dustin.”
It sounded so defeated; trodden on and subdued that Gareth stepped forward automatically, to do--something.
Provide the fucking comfort his cousin was oft denied and hug the guy.
As always, it turned out to be the wrong move.
"Oh thank god." A kid said, seconds after bulldozing through the main door and nearly bowling Gareth over in the process. "I found them!" He shouted over his shoulder as swept into the room.
“Speak of the devil.” Steve said flatly, and even drugged, he managed to pull himself back together from distressed to stoic in mere seconds.
The curly-haired kid--Dustin apparently--stormed right up to the pile of humans splayed on the floor, hands on his hips. "What the hell. We told you two to stay put!"
Steve rolled his eyes as Robin booed him.
“Have you forgotten what’s happening? Or how we’re kinda in a Red Dawn situation?” Dustin continued, looking like he’d just escaped from a summer camp.
The kid even had a walkie talkie clutched in one hand, of all things.
“We know.” Steve and Robin deadpanned at once, before looking at each other; Steve pointing a finger towards Robin and Robin pointing one back.
This caused the kids to trade their own long suffering, “can you believe this shit” faces.
"We need to go, and the only way we’re gonna get out of here unnoticed is if we blend in with the crowd." Dustin said impatiently. “Now come on Steve, get up already, you've had worse.”
"I really don't think I have." Steve muttered, but moved to push himself to his feet anyway.
Eddie beat him to it, and he and Gareth both hovered nearby in case Steve was still unsteady.
Thankfully, the kids' presence seemed to sober up Robin and Steve both.
Not actually sober, that wasn't how drugs worked, but whatever was left of the fun was sucked right out of the bathroom, replaced by two teenagers who were sort of functional on whatever they'd been drugged with.
Stress and adrenaline, Gareth knew, could overcome a lot of things. Including Russian "truth serum" apparently.
“Yeah well you're lucky you got found by these guys and not anyone else. " Dustin continued pointedly, before turning his attention towards Gareth and Eddie both. "Thanks for watching our friends, but we've got them from here."
Gareth made a sort of unhinged, disbelieving noise.
“No, no you do not.” He declared, anxiety clawing at his gut at the mere thought of abandoning Steve to two children.
"I don't think you heard him." The girl stepped forward, braids swinging about her face as she lifted her chin and nailed him with a cold glare.
As if this entire situation couldn’t possibly get weirder, Gareth suddenly realized she had a helmet in her hands and knee pads on.
"He said we got this. So scram." She flicked her fingers out in a dismissive sort of "shoo" gesture.
"And leave my drugged cousin with his new girlfriend behind!?" Gareth challenged right back, emotions far too raw and frayed to care he was snarling at a little girl. "I don’t think so!”
"Cousin!?" Dustin bit out, sounding almost betrayed for some reason, at the same time Robin who'd been climbing to her feet with Eddie’s help, shouted; "I am not his girlfriend!"
Steve, clearly unwilling to entertain whatever fight was brewing, clapped his hands together.
"Yes cousin, Dustin. It's a type of family member." Steve said, after they all flinched and looked to him. He at least looked steadier on his feet this time, though Gareth still lingered nearby in case he took a wrong step.
"I know what a cousin is, Steve!" Dustin shot back.
“Then why are you acting like a lunatic?” Steve complained, and Gareth got to watch in real time as Steve pulled on the persona he often wore in high school down around him. “You said it yourself, we don’t have a lot of time. Worse, I don't know if anyone saw Gareth and Munson here with us.”
He jerked a thumb sideways in Eddie’s direction, not that anyone couldn’t figure out who “Munson” was.
“They stay with us until we’re out of this mall.” Steve finished, before he started towards the door.
One step he was Gareth’s cousin, drugged and vulnerable because of it.
The next he stood taller, talked smoother, took charge with an aurora that said he expected everyone to listen to him.
It was fake as hell, but it worked.
“I know you’ve got a plan Dustin, so spill it.” He commanded as he walked.
Dustin, despite all the squawking, did just that.
xXx
Of all the things Gareth had expected to see upon escorting their little ragtag crew out of the bathroom, groups of intimidating, mean looking assholes wasn’t on the list.
He found himself repeatedly nudging Eddie in the ribs, unable to take his eyes off what was clearly a checkpoint as he staggered to a halt.
It was one thing to be told people were after Steve and the “Scoop’s Troop” As Robin had jokingly named them.
It was another entirely to see the security guard directly in front of him look over a woman’s ID before apologizing to her, a sleazy grin matching his oily pony-tail as he waved her on.
They really were looking for someone.
Not someone, Gareth realized in dawning horror.
Them.
Robin apparently, came to the same conclusion seconds later, because she snatched Steve and Dustin’s arms both, hauling them backwards.
“Argue about Dustin’s address later, we need to find a different way out.” She hissed quietly as she tried to slowly reversed direction, movements still a bit sloppy.
She might have even gotten away with it, had Sleazy Pony-Tail not turned and made eye contact with Gareth right after she spoke.
His eyes swept over him, then to the rest of the group, freezing like a cat that had spotted its prey.
“Abort, abort!” Dustin sputtered, wheeling about on his heel.
Erica, whose name Gareth had learned when she kicked him in the shin after he asked why an actual infant was running around with Steve and Robin, pointed towards the escalators before she beelined over to it, ducking into the center and riding it down like a slide.
Something Eddied was downright delighted to copy.
Gareth might have enjoyed it himself, had he not been looking over his shoulder to see not one, not two, but four security guards giving chase--and gaining.
“Fuck, fuck, fuckikity fuck.” He heard Robin chant as she shot past, Steve planting himself at the top as he made sure everyone got down to the next level before sliding down himself.
"Do not let them leave!" One of the guards yelled to the others, accent clear as a bell.
"Holy shit that guy's actually Russian." Gareth found himself saying as he skidded across the floor and bolted after the others, Steve hot on his heels.
He had kinda expected the Russian thing to be some sort of drug influenced inside joke and not an actual, honest-to-God Soviet.
Which led to the question of why the fuck adult men in security uniforms had drugged random teenage retail workers.
Food workers.
Whatever the fuck one called a two people who scooped ice-cream in sailor costumes.
"There's another group up ahead!" Eddie yelped, swerving sideways and nearly taking Erica out while doing it.
Noise erupted ahead of them in the form of foreign shouting and loud, harshly barked commands to “Freeze!”
‘Oh hell no.’ Gareth thought wildly, as he caught the form of the giant fricken gun the guard closest to him held.
“Split up!” Dustin howled, and before anyone could comment about how bad an idea that was, Gareth found himself being yanked sideways.
Steve swore loudly behind him as Robin, who’d crashed backwards, pulled him in the opposite direction and in a second their group broke in two. Gareth, Eddie and Dustin going one way, Steve, Robin and Erica another.
"This isn’t happening." Gareth muttered, words made in a sort of pleading denial as he and Eddie turned the corner and immediately vaulted over the counter of an Orange Julius. “I smoked or drank or did something and this is a hallucination that is not. Actually. Happening.”
Dustin at least, was smart enough to dive around the counter instead of over it, sliding towards them on his knees.
Eddie quickly yanked him down to the floor in-between himself and Gareth once he was close enough to grab, one hand going over the hat to shove the kids head down.
Annoying or not, he was at least several years younger than them, and Gareth could practically feel Eddie’s protective instinct kick in as he kept his hand on Dustin’s head.
Together they tried to silence their breathing as the guards’ shouting continued on behind them.
What was worse than their noises though, was when they unexpectedly and suddenly, went silent.
Gareth’s breath felt far too loud as the stillness gained a suppressive weight, pressing down harshly against him and making it harder and harder to inhale.
‘Panic attack.’ He realized, thoughts a touch detached. ‘You can’t afford to have a panic attack right now.’
Not when it had a high chance of getting them all killed.
Slowly he moved his own free hand, placing it atop of Eddie’s, fingers gripping down in a way that was no doubt painful.
Eddie glanced over to him and Gareth thanked every single time he’d smoked way too much weed, because his best friend immediately clocked what was wrong.
Turned his hand over, so that Gareth could hold onto it atop Dustin’s hat.
It didn’t help with the knowledge that his very much still drugged cousin and his equally drugged not-girlfriend were also hiding somewhere, or that there was significantly more Russians than there where terrified teenagers (and one--whatever age Erica was.)
Flashlights cut shapes into the wall overheard, trailing along the Orange Julius menu. Quiet voices covered even quieter footsteps and Gareth had the sudden realization the probability of there being more than one guard carrying a huge gun, was very, very high.
Worse?
This part of the mall wasn’t that big. There were only so many places to hide, and as such, only so many places to look.
Death comes for everyone eventually, but Gareth hadn’t exactly expected it to show up before he hit twenty.
Not that they could do anything but wait. Pray to God and the universe and any other higher power he could think of to intervene, head pressed hard against the wood behind him as the small noises drew nearer.
What he hadn’t expected was for said prayers to get answered in the form of a of a fucking car being thrown into the Russian’s like bowling balls.
“Run!” Dustin shouted, and Gareth wasted absolutely no time in doing just that.
The only goal on his mind was to find Steve, get out, and then have a very long discussion about what the hell this all was, in that exact order.
#fun fic facts I kept writing Orange Julius as King Julian#so thats my new fake 80s store#Tagline can be “yay I’m a sacrifice!”#Pre steddie#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#gareth emerson#platonic stobin#gareth is eddies robin#gareth is steves cousin#gareth and steve cousin au#Poor Dustin is mad jelly steve has a cousin that isnt him#we will dig into that later#tw drugs#tw vomit#tw guns#tw panic attack#Steve and robin have already had their scene I just moved it back so he is aware she is a lesbian#I will make it clearer in the next part#Drugged steve has no personal boundaries and homeboy would not at this point consider the stuff wit heddie flirting with Robin ALSO#digs into later#that was gay steve#HELLA gay#the more robin gets to know steve the more shes convinced half the basketball team is queer af#0o0 fanfics#denial is a river in Egypt that Gareth is struggling to swim down
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6: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru
pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.
content warnings mentions toxic family, mentions of forced marriage, emotional infidelity, lots of crying, drama drama drama, confrontation, lots of reminiscing. also not proofread so im sorry for any mistakes !!
word count 4k
a/n sorry for late update lomls my gojo fate is fickle ver. came back into my life after three years of silence so this is chapter is coming straight from my bones guysssss . also i am so so so grateful for the support on this fic, genuinely makes me so happy i love u guys sm thank you SO much !! <3 also credit to the person of the art!! i can't find their name so if anyone knows then lmk <3
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Gojo Satoru didn’t get on one knee and ask to marry you. He did it when the two of you were in the apartment he bought just a few months prior, laying on the bed as the small opening of the curtains let a thin stream of silver streams in. It wasn’t that he wasn’t prepared because when he slipped the question while the two of you were facing one another, a hint of sleep heavy on the eyes on his moon-kissed face, he backed it up with the ring he’d carefully tucked away in his sweatpants. You swore your cheeks were hinting a fresh glow for the next week.
Maybe it was dumb to think you and Satoru, only twenty-five, would’ve worked out when he proposed on a random Sunday in bed. It did seem dumb, though, while you sat across Hana who was relaying her own proposal story. You’d tuned it out, not wanting to hear her drone on about how it was the most perfect, breathtaking moment when he got on one knee at a rooftop restaurant. You didn’t want to be there, partially because you truly felt as though Hana was painting Satoru out into someone he wasn’t, and partially because you were human and humans tend to get jealous sometimes.
It was meant to be a simple brunch with ten people, friends of friends of friends. You had Reina right next to you, Reina, whose eyes were continuously twitching as Hana would relearn a new moment from that picture-perfect night and feel the need to share it with everyone on the table. You could also see some of your own friends who were aware of yours and Satoru’s relationship look at her, then you, with furrowed brows. Hers mostly out of confusion, and at you to ask why the fuck are you quiet?
“Ugh!” One of the girls, Jia, exclaimed as Hana finally seemed to get to the end of her engagement story. “I wish I had someone like Gojo Satoru; all these men are so unromantic and act like genuine children.”
Truthfully, if Satoru wasn’t your ex-fiancee, you would be on the same boat as the girls who were unaware of your past relationship. Hana’s story, from the pieces you forced yourself to hear, was dreamlike. A small part of you wanted to tell her that her romantic and unchildlike husband had proposed to her, too, right after he’d done some other things that would end that conversation immediately. But you didn’t because it wasn’t Hana’s fault, even though your mind kept putting some blame on her, that Satoru broke it off with you.
“I hope all of you find somebody like Satoru. He truly is the best,” Hana replied dreamily.
You clenched your fists. Reina slammed hers on the table.
“You’re so delusional, Hana, it’s concerning.” You wanted to raise your arms and pull Reina down and ask her to shut up. To not cause a scene. But Hana looked at Reina, a confused, concerningly kind expression covering her features and you realized there lived a monster in you that wanted to see Gojo Hana crumble. “Don’t look at me all coy, high, and mighty. You don’t know shit about your husband. Why don’t you skip over these semantics and really tell them the only reason the two of you got married was because your parents forced you to?”
You delighted in the flash of anger that slid across Hana’s face as she pursed her lips, trying to find the right words. You leaned back and stared, an uncharacteristically numb look covering your features. This, a part of you realized, might be detracking you from your healing process but it was fun.
Hana looked around the table and noticed how all eyes were fixed on her figure. If there was one thing you’d learned from girls' brunches, it was that everybody loved when it blew over and left one or many people scathed. She sputtered over her words, the tangle coming out completely incomprehensible and you almost felt bad. Almost felt bad because it wasn’t expected of her to admit to a whole group of socialites that the marriage to the Gojo heir wasn’t out of love, but out of an arrangement that went in their favor. If you were in her place, you, too, would’ve waxed poetic about your marriage because if the truth would bring the palpable exciting energy down, you would feel bad.
“Perhaps it was suggested by our parents,” she started, glaring at Reina with faux sweetness. “But it was only because our parents saw how in love we seemed with each other.”
You tried to hold yourself back but it was just so simple for you to scoff at her words. When Reina looked at you, a sheen of anger coating her eyes, you pushed yourself to talk. “It’s not love if he cheated on someone with you.”
You had thought about this moment before; you’d wondered if, were you to ever meet Hana again, you would drop the ticking time bomb in her presence that might either blow up her entire marriage or just cause a small blip in the working systems of it. But saying it now, after hearing her say all Satoru had said about you was that your fathers worked together, felt completely underwhelming. Though the shoe was dropped and it was clear everybody managed to get a small tatters of it to whisper about with other people, it felt wrong. Wrong because the way Hana looked at you, eyes brimmed with tears and brows coming together in sadness, you had most likely broken a piece of her.
She gulped then cleared her throat. “Can—Can we talk outside? Alone?” she asked and, without sparing a glance at anybody on the table except for you and Reina, she walked to the sliding doors of the restaurant and into the glaring sun above.
Reina placed her hand on your forearm and said, “Come on, let’s go.” It was surprising to see a miniscule hint of guilt on her features, and you realized you had to have the conversation.
Hana had most likely heard the clicking of yours and Reina’s heels because she didn’t turn back to face the two of you. “I know you and Satoru had something going on.”
You froze, stunned and silent.
“I had heard from my mother that you both were in a relationship. He never mentioned it to me, though, and I didn’t mention it, either.” She turned around, eyes wide as she looked down and shuffled her feet in anxiousness. “I don’t know how it ended or when it ended, but I thought when he—he finally acknowledged there was something between us, the two of you were over. I didn’t want to know. We did get married because our fathers told us to, but I wasn’t lying when I said he was sweet and caring.” Her stare burned you like a billion matches. There was truth in her words, you knew—
“You homewrecking bitch!” Reina’s voice cut off your train of thought as she walked towards Hana, an accusatory finger pointed in her direction. Once again, you didn’t stop her even though you probably should’ve. “If you knew he was in a relationship, how could you even think of flirting with him? They were engaged. God! I swear, both you and Gojo are two peas in the same pod. You deserve each other.” Her words were also ringing through your head and there was confusion bubbling up within the same pot as growing anger.
“Why’d you pretend not to know when we saw you at the club?” you asked, finding your voice again, in a calm tone that surprised you, too.
Hana shook her head. Her face had curled up into fury, and you wondered if her nice, docile, angel-sent-from-above personality was a card she held up her sleeve the entire time. “I didn’t care. I didn’t want to know because Satoru was mine—is mine. You weren’t a part of his life anymore, so I didn’t want to add any worries that were misplaced.”
You wondered if you should tell her that Satoru had tried reaching out to you at Suguru’s gallery.
“If he had told me he was with you, I wouldn’t have tried anything with him.”
You were sure you had moved past everything.
After more than a year of avoiding any fire from your past with Satoru, the past two weeks had been filled to the brim with situations revolving around him. It was easy to ignore what you had with Satoru when he seemed like a distant memory and then a mere ghost in your thoughts. But when he’s insistent on giving you answers you never asked for, answers you didn’t want to know, and his wife had made an appearance that caused your brain to run without stopping, it was difficult to treat him the way you had.
No matter how much you wanted to ignore everything and reset your brain back to its default settings, you couldn’t when the world was caving in on you and reality seeped through its cracks to light a bright, pertinent light in front of your eyes. You hated Gojo Satoru with every inch of your bones, but you were never truly able to forget just Satoru himself.
Your mind had an interesting way to deal with the pile of information dropped onto your shoulders. You should’ve been reliving how Satoru made your blood boil when he got engaged with Hana, how he carelessly broke your heart because he began falling for somebody else, somebody brand new while he was taking space on your bed every night. You should’ve been, but you weren’t.
‘A relationship broken is always a relationship that could’ve been,’ is what you’d read once graffitied onto a brick wall you were leaning against with Satoru once in the middle of the bustling city streets. You’d pointed it out, he’d agreed. He’d agreed. You wish he hadn’t because there was a fragment of you that wished he remembered those words now. The devilish part of you wished that’s what he remembered, recounted abruptly while he was sleeping next to his wife.
You wished he’d think of the could’ve been’s instead of the measly fears he told you about at the gallery.
You also wish you had those fears, too. You loved Satoru to a point that he was in everything you did; your clothes smelt like his detergent because you would always take your laundry to his house for the weekends. The lamp next to your bed had his bracelet wrapped around it because he thought it was too loose on his wrist and he’d lose it. You would always accidentally call him because his contact was on your home screen, causing you to press on it when you were scrolling (he always picked up and he always talked to you for hours after, making you forget why you had opened your phone in the first place). The tattoo, a small design of baby’s breaths, on your hip reminded you of how he had held your hand through the pain.
You knew Satoru’s dreams. You knew Satoru’s biggest fears. So, why did he never tell you the fears he had for the two of you?
As soon as the thought hit your mind, it was followed by you harshly reprimanding yourself by reminding you that it was because he was getting excited over someone else’s calls, someone else’s dreams.
“Y/N, honey.” You heard your mother’s voice call from your ajar bedroom door before she hesitantly stepped in, heel-clad feet grazing over the off-white floor with footsteps following behind her. “Your friend from the gallery here to see you.”
You knew exactly who she was talking about which is why you raised slightly from your bed, a panicked look in your eyes, and only began pleading with her to tell him you weren’t here. Before you could even utter a complete, coherent sentence, Suguru had walked in with his head down and your mother simply walked out of the door, sparing you a sad smile. She didn’t know any of what had happened, but she most likely sensed it wasn’t anything worth toasting to after seeing Suguru’s mood and your reaction.
“Please, Suguru.” Your voice wobbled, a slight hiccup in your words because this was too much. Even though Suguru was somewhere on the top of your least-favorite people list at the moment, he didn’t deserve to see you get angry at him without having control over your words. “Leave.”
“Listen, listen, Y/N. I just… I heard some stuff and I needed to check on you.” His words were hesitant, as if he’d rehearsed them but had changed the script at the last minute. He walked closer to your bed and you couldn’t find the words to ask him to leave. “Hana told me—”
You snorted, cutting him off. “Hana told you what? That I ended her perfect, dreamy image of her marriage in public? Are you here to—what? Reprimand me? Tell me I was wrong—”
“Fuck, no. Stop, just for one second.”
You did stop because Suguru seemed more tense than you knew what to do with.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Y/N.”
You stared at him, unblinking. “What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he quickly addressed, his body finding its way to the edge of your bed. “I want to say I’m sorry, and you don’t have to accept it. I was wrong—I realize that now but… I was scared, Y/N.”
“Scared of what? I wouldn’t have been any worse if you’d just told me what you knew, Suguru. You hid it from me when you saw how I was going insane the month after the breakup.”
“I was scared of this. How you’ve been feeling since Satoru told you the truth himself.” You couldn’t reply to that. “But I want to tell you that even though I hadn’t told you about it, I did let Satoru know really well what he did was wrong. Not that it’s any better, but I never supported what he did. I—I couldn’t stop him from marrying her because… well, because he’s Satoru. I shouldn’t have assumed you were okay, especially not after finding out about Hana after three months. But I thought you were and—I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight.
But I heard from Hana earlier today about what had happened at brunch. She said she was scared Satoru would find out what she said and I—I have no idea why she trusted me with that information. I’m not friends with her. I don’t know why she told me.”
You took in a deep breath processing all the information Suguru kept on dropping. “I’m not telling Satoru anything.”
“But she—”
“She nothing. I don’t want to hear it, Suguru. Whatever she did, even if she actively tried to sabotage me and Satoru, it was on him that he let her.” Your phone lit up from beside you and you glanced at the time, internally thanking whoever controlled it for the real excuse to kick him out of your house. “I have plans with Kento. You need to leave now, actually.”
You didn’t miss the way Suguru’s face flashed with a hint of disappointment at your words.
Kento Nanami wasn’t understanding—not truly—which is why you were surprised that halfway through your date, when you told him you had to talk to Satoru, he understood. He walked you out of the restaurant, a calm, unwavering hand on your back and told you that no matter what happened, he’d be there by your side.
And though you knew you had people by your side, you really couldn’t remember who and felt a flutter in your chest.
By the time you reached Satoru’s (and Hana’s) apartment, the urge and confidence you felt when you came up with your plan ebbed away into pieces and left you lying there in a situation you weren’t sure you could face. You raised your hand up to press a finger against the doorbell regardless, trying to force away the thought that you would see the apartment you helped him move into and decorate. You briefly, for a second, wondered if he had changed it. You also wondered if it would hurt to see the small paintings you’d bought as a present for his new apartment not be in the spots of the wall Satoru put you on his shoulders to pin.
When the door opened, you were met with the same eyes that had haunted your dreams and nightmares. His mouth opened, wide enough for a fly to fly into, then he schooled his features into mere curiosity. You realized that you were the one that sought him out this time, you were the one who dropped in unannounced at his house, which meant you should speak.
“I need to talk to you.” And frankly, at that moment, you didn’t care if Hana was lurking behind him and able to hear you initiate a conversation with her husband. That was what he was: her husband before your ex-fiance.
He breathed out and shook his head as if willing himself to speak, too. “Yes. Yeah. Come in, Y/N.”
And you did. You saw the walls, the paintings, the small hearts on the corner of the dining table you drew with a sharpie, the couch you picked out, and even the necklace you had forgotten that peeked from under his coat on the coat hanger. You didn’t comment on it, though.
“Do you want water? Tea? Liquor?”
You almost laughed at the anxiousness in his voice. “I’m good. This won’t take long.”
Satoru’s expression was what you could confidently call crestfallen, and he didn’t try to hide it this time. You forced yourself not to think about it. You merely went down to the couch in his living room that you picked out and placed yourself on the left corner because you always used to sit on the right. It helped you see the TV better.
“She isn’t home.” You knew who he meant by ‘she.’
“Goj—Satoru, I need you to do something,” you said, unsure of how to start it off. In all fairness, you hadn’t prepared what you were going to say, it was just a messed up, jumbled backbone of stuff that you knew you had to tell him.
His reply was instant. “Anything.”
“I need you to not feel guilty or—I don’t know, keep feeling guilty but just keep it to yourself, okay?” You sounded like you were talking like a preschooler, and it wasn’t much different because Satoru looked at you with the hopeful eyes a kid has before you reject their wishes. But Satoru wasn’t a kid, Satoru was a man who made poor choices and hurt someone by doing something unexcusable, and that made it okay to tell him to stop.
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t talk to me. If we’re in the same place, don’t talk to me. Don’t ask me not to hate you. Don’t tell me you regret what you did to me.”
It hurt to break your heart by your own words.
“Y/N, don’t do this,” he trailed off, eyes wide and filled with fear now. “Please.”
“Stop.” Your own eyes brimmed with tears you weren’t going to shed. It was fine dealing with Satoru when he tried to talk to you, but doing it on your own terms gave you an inexplicable feeling of sadness you hadn’t expected. “You’re being selfish.”
“No. How…”
“You take when you want, Satoru. You know more than anybody else that I loved you and lost myself when I couldn’t. You were there that night in the car, holding me when I cried when you left me. You left me!” you exclaimed, pointing your index in his direction that would’ve jabbed him in the face if he wasn’t further away. “You were there even after you left me. You’re there now, making me all confused and angry, when you know you can’t give me anything. You don’t have any intention of being somebody I need in my life, so leave. Make this easier for me and leave. Let me live my life while you live yours.”
He had shifted down the couch, and though he was still not too close, it felt too close.
“Don’t—fuck, don’t say that, love. Please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
You flailed your arms in the air, his words not helping your case at all. “You can be sorry a million times over, but what’s done is done. You can’t… Fuck, Satoru. You can’t do this.”
A moment passed. Then another. He placed his head in his hands, facing ahead while you faced his shaking body.
“I love you,” he said, and you were lost.
“Don’t do this to your wife, Satoru. You love her. You’re supposed to love her. Don’t do this to someone else.”
“I love you,” he repeated, his eyes now looking into yours with a familiar fire of determination. “You know that, right? You know that I love you?” His words broke out into a sob that ripped directly from his scratchy throat. “Tell me you know that.”
“Then please leave. Don’t show up. Stop showing up, and stop explaining something that can’t be understood.”
And when Satoru placed a hand on your cheek, you didn’t push it away because you saw that previous fire dwindle within a second. He tugged his lower lip between his teeth as he scanned your warm face, your glassy eyes, and he noticed how you were shivering under his touch. You didn’t push it away because Satoru might’ve been selfish, but you were, too. And you would inhale the embers of him before they turned into ash.
“You want this?” he asked, but you could see he knew the answer. You didn’t reply. He continued, “I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. But—But I want you to know I wanted it to be you. When Hana walked down the aisle, I thought of you. I wish you’d come. I would’ve never said ‘I do.’ I swear. I’m sorry I fucked up—I fucked us up. I got carried away and…”
You smiled sadly. “Don’t do that to her. You have a chance at being happy, Satoru. Don’t ever do what you did to me again.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Do I what?”
“Have that chance at being happy?”
You thought about the question and Kento’s name flashed in your mind. It might have been small compared to the colossal amounts of feelings you felt with Satoru back then, but it was something. Even though you didn’t shake under Kento’s touch or feel your stomach turning upside down everytime he smiled at you, you felt safe and you knew that if you could stay, Kento would stay, too.
“I do.”
He inhaled a sharp breath, a single tear falling from his eye. “Is it wrong that I still wish it was me?”
You wanted to say no, it isn’t because a part of me wishes it was you, too. You didn’t.
He continued, “I can’t let you go, Y/N.”
Another tear, then another, till they continued streaming down his face. You couldn’t stop them. You couldn’t react to them. Not even when he took his hand away from your face to messily wipe them away between sobs and hiccups.
“You said you didn’t deserve me, and you were right. Remember that.”
And even though a larger part of you didn’t want to leave, you left, afraid that you might end up entangling yourself in his arms to cry with him. To get one taste of his lips for the last time before deciding to fuck it all and make one kiss more. To hold onto him for longer, forever. You left because you weren’t sure you could tell Satoru to leave again. You thought you still loved Satoru just not in the way you used to. But when you saw him pleading for nothing because there was no good outcome for the two of you, you realized you might still love Satoru the way you used to, just less and concealed by the hurt. You would’ve chosen all the bad outcomes and then some more if you stayed a minute longer.
#gojo x reader#angst#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#gojo angst#gojo satoru#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen angst
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Same person from the fem!Scara question!! I don't want to pressure you much tbh so sorry if I do I really am 😭🙏
Maybe like fem!Scara x fem!reader and you can choose if you want it to be fluff or smut I don't really mind either whatever you feel more confident with!❤️
⟡ you hate her (do you really?), but she’s the only way you can get better grades
— pairing : f!scaramouche x f!reader
— warnings : NSFW; humping; fingering; semi-public?; scara’s a bit degrading (she might say something hurtful but she also calls you “love”)
— a/n : don't worry about it, you're not pressuring me!! ;) ISTG IT WAS GONNA BE FLUFF WITH SOME SMUT AND ANGST AND SLOWBURN, BUT I GOT TOO HORNY IM SORRY!!!
The classroom was a mess again.
Every time it ended up like this, no matter how many different classes the two of you had together, she always managed to make friends in all of them, and her charm attracted people of all genders to her table.
Not that this fact bothered you, since you didn't have many friends in college. But it was different when she always sat next to you and talked in the middle of classes to whoever was next to her.
“Ah… excuse me, do you have a pencil?” You sigh, watching the interaction unfold in front of you. Your left cheek resting on your hand, and a girl with long indigo hair turns with a bright smile to hand the pencil to the colleague next to you.
As always, you were right to assume that it wouldn't end there. Soon the girl starts chattering about her life, exchanging phone numbers with flushed cheeks and biting her lips as she twirls a strand of green hair around her index finger. Scaramouche just responded with a smile and a nod, as usual. She was aware of her attractiveness to both boys and girls, but fooling around wasn't her focus at the moment. That's what she always said.
It irritated you how uncommunicative she was and yet it made her one of the most famous people around campus. Known for her perfect shiny hair, clean and soft skin, big round eyes and lashes that made her look like a doll. In addition to the perfect grades she got in every subject. There was nothing she was bad at, and yet, she still managed to handle her time perfectly to be so social, while also studying to the point of fainting. You don't quite know why though.
But despite everything, you didn't blame her, because deep down you knew it was your fault for not being like her, not being her. She would never know what was going on in your head, nor you in hers. And you’d never expose your dark thoughts for others to hear knowing how wrong you were for thinking that way. You would just have to stay as far away from her as possible. It wasn't that difficult, was it?
So why were you in the library, hugging Scaramouche's arm between your legs like a whore? Begging her to help you with your grades while wiggling your ass and looking at her with those puppy dog eyes like it was just an innocent offer?
To Scaramouche, you were nothing less than an ant. Hiding in the corner and focusing on writing down every single word the teacher said. In any case, your grades always fell and hers went up. Your frustrated expression whenever you received the results of a test and the crumpling of your trembling hands on the paper gave you away. She didn't care enough though, it wasn't her problem.
The different could be said about you, and she could almost feel sorry for those deep dark circles and those teary eyes, accompanied by the wet panties of someone whose pussy hadn’t been touched by an experienced hand in oh so long and someone who was willing to give everything in exchange for better grades and lessons by Scaramouche.
Her silly fingers taking advantage to ghost lightly above your heat, wondering why you wore such short and revealing skirts when you were a complete prude known for rejecting so many guys, almost forgetting your hopeful face desperately waiting for an answer.
Scaramouche's smile makes you swallow hard. She doesn't give you any comfort, despite the words she utters: “let's meet in the study room from now on then. Give me your number so we can choose the days for our meetings.”
You should be relieved, you will no longer need to turn to such low measures to get some alone time with the girl. You thought. But was it right to assume that she wasn’t gonna ask anything in return just because she hadn't responded to your offer to do anything for her? This was too easy.
The days when you were in the study room were peaceful. No one could hear anything from outside, just as you couldn't hear anything happening outside the room. Scaramouche was patient and explained you carefully, you hung on every word and it often left your mind in the clouds.
“Getting distracted, are we?” She said the first time, which made your face blush. Since when could a woman's voice get into your mind like that?
Calm wasn't the right word to describe how she sounded to you, because what your body felt was a hint of anything but calm in those moments.
“I brought some sweets. You like them, don't you? Let's take a coffee break."
And every time you were distracted, she would fill you with sweets and talk to you, keeping the atmosphere easy going and comfortable.
The week for your finals was approaching. Your anxiousness distracted you even more when you met, and Scaramouche tried to be as patient as possible through it. But with things going on at home and having to force a smile on her face at college all the time, she was at her limit.
It happened quite often. She’d put up with a lot of bullshit and the patience you started to grow familiar with, would wear thin the moment you ask her to explain the subject to you one more again. She’d make you be the one to pay for her headache this time.
And you did.
“Getting distracted again, are we?” Something in her voice changed, you couldn't wrap your mind around what. Maybe the hint of cynicism, or the gravity in the gentle tone she always carried in her voice. Something changed.
“‘M sorry… I’ll do better.” You apologized for the nth time in the same day, making Scaramouche's eyelid twitch in irritation.
“Well, I didn’t bring any sweets this time, isn’t that such a shame?” You slowly nod when she doesn't continue her speech and looks at you as if waiting for an answer before getting up and walking around your chair, standing behind it. “I’ll have to keep you busy some other way. Always being a dead weight.” She muttered the last part, but you could hear it anyway. Your heartbeat increasing dangerously when she sighs and holds your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks and turning it towards the giant mirror that was next to the study table.
“Weren’t you eager at first to give me something in return for teaching you? I want it now.” She demands, slowly releasing your face and reaching down to aggressively squeeze your breast through your clothes, making you gasp in surprise.
“You're so nervous that your nipples are hard all the time. Are you not aware of what a bra is, love?” Her hand makes space between the valley of your breasts. A tight strapless that made your torso so accessible to Scaramouche. Both for her touches and for her lustful eyes to see.
Her finger surrounds your hardened bud, while she lowers her other hand to your belly all the way to your pelvis and presses deliciously down there, making you throw your head back and lay on the girl's shoulder.
“If you eased your frustrations, you wouldn't be so worried about these stupid tests. Do you even touch yourself?” Your cheeks redden and you purse your lips together from embarrassment. “So… do you?” She asks again, clearly demanding an answer from you, and takes it as enough when you shake your head no.
“Too busy for that?” She scoffs, and all you want to do is stick your head under the ground. “It’s our break now, so you’re not wasting any time since we wouldn’t be studying right now anyway.”
She lifts your clothes over your breasts completely and takes off your skirt, leaving you in just your panties wetting the chair with the slick that coats your fabric.
“Look at this delicious tits…” she flicks your nipples between her fingers, getting your hips to press against your seat and your body squirm in need. “Always perk up like this or only when we meet?” She stares at you for a moment before laughing lowly. “You must not know, since you dress like a whore everywhere you go. And you still have to wonder why it attracts so much attention. Naive little thing.” You whine, pouting your lower lip and frowning to feign offense by her words, but it only makes her laugh.
Her hand goes down to caress the soaking area of what would be your panties, marked by your wet pussy, completely disabling the fabric and making you so uncomfortable under your clothes. Still, Scaramouche ignores your hopeless pleas to strip you out of your undergarments and start gently stroking your swollen clit. From time to time, squeezing it between her fingers to hear the sounds your mouth made. Your hand holds hers, trying to press it harder between your legs even though you feel instant shame the moment you see her smirk.
“Someone’s desperate. Go ahead and grind your little clit on my arm like you did that day, sweets.” She reminds you of the day you asked for her help in the first place, rubbing your clothed pussy against her arm when she just wanted to get a book. Likewise, you do as she asks, using both hands to hold her arm still and play with your clit on her soft skin.
The way you scrunch your beautiful face as she goes back to holding your face with one hand tightly so that you are forced to look at your reflection as you cover her arm with your juices, tears running down your face that drives her absolutely crazy to see the results inside your lacy panties. She reaches the limit when she hears you begging: “p-please, wanna cum so bad.” And press your hole to her fingertips in what would be a failed attempt to tear the fabric that separated the two of you.
“Shhh, let me see what you’ve done.” She tells you, kissing your temple and slipping down your underwear to take a look at your clenching walls. It takes her everything not to just fuck you with her skillful tongue right there, but she’s not giving you this time that easily.
With a goodbye kiss and perhaps a “see you another day” on your clit, she turns her head away from your intimacy. You don't even have time to reason and be disappointed before you feel her fingers playing with your entrance again, opening you up to the mirror and exposing everything to the two of you. Your essence went from your insides to down your ass, your aching red clit and your hole dying to be filled and she wasn’t gonna keep it from being played with.
You cover her mouth with awe as she circles your entrance with a finger, pushing it all the way in and keeping it there.
“Ohhh, it went right in~” she teases. “Can you take two at once?” And adds another one right after, without waiting for a response.
Your swollen bud remains ignored for a while, her fingers making long, deep back-and-forth movements quickly, only slamming her palm against the button for a second before pulling away. Wet noises were emitted by the amount of essence that came out of your pussy until Scaramouche was satisfied and pressed her palm on your clit to make delicious circles while her fingers explored your intimacy.
“You want to get off that badly, so I’m giving you what you want now.” She says, fresh breath hitting your neck from behind, kissing and nibbling the skin when she can. You moan loudly and turn your hand to hold onto the collar of her shirt, clenching harder around her fingers and biting your lower lip to suppress a scream when you feel yourself getting closer to your peak.
“Don’t hurt yourself like that, love.” She warns you, but your mind is too foggy to even focus on what's going on right now.
Clicking her tongue with impatience, Scaramouche lowers her head in front of your face and collides her lips with yours at the same time she buries her knuckles deep into your hole.
Your moans vibrate against her mouth as she swallows your beautiful sounds with her tongue. The pleasure is so overwhelming that your back arches and more tears fall down your face the moment you cum.
She does not hesitate to get down on her knees and lick everything off of you and her fingers before standing up, despite your strong grip on her shirt that tells her not to go away like that.
“You’ll have to do better next time so I can reward you then.” She fixes her tie in front of the mirror and throws her soft hair back, not knowing how excited for the next study session she was making you.
The question after all is: you wanna be her or do you wanna be hers?
#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#꒰ requests ꒱ྀི#+18 content#fem!scaramouche#f!scaramouche#scaramouche au#scaramouche smut#wanderer smut#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#genshin impact smut#genshin smut
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— boyfriend things enha does ! - hyung line
hey everyone!! surprise im alive!! i still have a request to finish but it's been hard writing it and this idea rushed to my head and i just had to do it 😭
make sure to leave feedback. my resquests are open and so is my talk box so let's talk!
WARNINGS ! might be slightly suggestive; might contain grammar errors.
word count: 1.1k
LEE HEESEUNG !
— leaves his hoodie at your house
to me this seems like such a heeseung thing to do.
he lives to see you dressed in his hoodies outside of your home, like, he loves when you go over to the dorms or when you go on a date and you wear his hoodies.
bonus: he loves it when someone notices it’s his hoodie and says something about it and he can proudly show that person you’re his partner!
when sleeps over at your house he takes an extra sweater or shirt to purposely leave his hoodie in your house.
when you wear it he’s like “oh my god, can’t believe i left another hoodie at your house.” and you act like you don’t realize it’s on purpose just to let him have his moment.
— keeps a hand on your back when you guys are out
heeseung can be a little possessive over you sometimes in a non unhealthy way.
he does this mostly when you are at social events or at a party, just out somewhere. he does it kinda unconsciously to be honest, but when he sees someone get their eye on you he will definitely do it on purpose to make the other person realize you are his.
you don't mind it, like at all. when you feel his hand resting on your back you’ll tense a little at the touch, and when he’s feeling like teasing you, he’ll trace his hand up and down your back in a teasing way, touching you with just the tip of his fingers and his nails slightly scratching your skin, to make you shiver, knowing how it gets you.
PARK JONGSEONG !
— hugging you randomly from behind
jay loves back hugging you.
no matter what you are doing he will be wrapping his arms around you waist and nuzzling his head on the crook of your neck and might leave little kisses on your neck and jaw.
you’re making a phone call and you’re walking around the house? he’ll be clinging to you.
you’re cooking? he’s right behind you.
you’re just standing looking at whatever? he's hugging you.
he just loves feeling you against him.
sometimes when he’s feeling needy he will come behind you and slowly wrap his arms around your waist and will rub his hands all over your lower torso, while leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck and sometimes licking and sucking the area, knowing it’ll make you feel hot and feeling uneasy.
— always asking for your opinion on his outfits
as we all know and i’ve talked about before, jake loves fashion and his clothes are a very prized possession for him.
everytime you sleep over and you go out he’ll show you different outfits and will model for you so you can give an opinion and choose the best one.
sometimes he’ll be like
“ok the one you chose is good, but what if i wore it with the shirt of that one and-”
he’ll start ranting and explaining how the color scheme and whatever things you’re not really listening because he looks so good with the outfit and you can’t focus on anything but him.
SIM JAEYUN !
— kissing you out of the nowhere
when i look at jake i can’t think of anything else but his plush lips and how soft they might feel and i know i’ve written so many things about kissing jake but can you blame me??
jake is very aware you find his lips attractive so he’ll use them to tease you in more than one way.
sometimes you both are just chilling on the couch and he will start trailing his lips up your neck and will start leaving soft marks on your most sensitive spots.
he smirks to himself when you move your neck to give him more space to kiss and sees you rubbing your thighs together, giving himself a reminder to help you later on.
he’s such a tease for no reason, he’ll do this and when the good part is coming he just steps back and smiles at you like he did nothing, making you scowl at him.
— shows up to your home unannounced
jake is the type to miss you and go straight to your house without texting you.
you will be at home doing work or whatever and he’ll be knocking at your door when you least expect it.
you don’t even get surprised anymore, you’re so used to it by now, he should just move in at this point 🙄
if you are lucky enough he will bring you a present, which are mostly plushies. you have a huge plushie collection, because anytime he goes to an arcade with the boys he makes sure to always win one for you and will proudly give it to you and tell you how he easily won the game, even though he almost cried while playing because of how hard it was.
PARK SUNGHOON !
— will give you private serenades
what’s better than to have a boyfriend who sings?
he started doing this in the early days of your relationship when he wanted to get your pants (jk)
but it did start that early and he just made it a routine for you. he acts like he doesn’t like doing it but deep down he loves seeing your heart eyes looking at him while he sings for you.
when he’s feeling nice he will have you with your head laid in his lap while you look up at him and he sings something for you.
sometimes you ask him to sing you to sleep, since his voice calms you down and even though he rolls his eyes, you see the corners of his lips rise the slightest bit.
— takes you on road trips
sunghoon loves traveling and he loves traveling with you!
whenever he knows he knows enhypen will have a longer rest break he will take that as an opportunity to take you on a road trip.
you have visited the most famous places in korea since he can’t take you out of the country just when he pleases he will opt to just take you to korean places.
he loves taking you to places where it snows a lot, so he can take you snowboarding with him and teach you. teaching to him means laughing his ass off when you fall flat on your face.
he also takes you to beachy areas, because he loves seeing how happy you get when you play in the water (sorry if you don’t relate to this tho!)
#enhypen fluff#enhypen fic#enhypen drabbles#enhypen imagines#enhypen fics#enhypen x reader#enhypen x gender neutral reader#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enhypen imagine#enhypen scenarios#enhypen reactions#enhypen reaction#heeseung x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunoo x reader#jungwon x reader#niki x reader#enhypen drabble#enhypen suggestive#enha fics#enha x you#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha reactions#enha x y/n#enha imagines#enhypen headcanons
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Hi gorgeous 💞
I honestly love you work, thank you so much ❤️
If it's not too much to ask but my birthday is on 14th March so can you write a hyunjin x f reader smut +fluff with him giving reader his birthday gift for her (surprise me with your writing)?
I would really appreciate it 🥺
Bye 👋
SYMPHONIES
cw: mature content MDNI, fem reader, oral *f receiving, swearing, friends to lovers, no aftercare shown but is implied
wc: 1.3k
a.n - happy birthday beautiful!! i hope this was a good enough present <3
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
12:00 AM
Tons of DMs, calls and texts erupt on your phone simultaneously, wishing you a happy birthday. Everyone but the one you wanted most.
Is it wrong to be in love with your best friend since the sixth grade? To a normal person, maybe, but to you it’s the reality you’re forced to live.
4:00 AM
Did he forget? You can’t blame him; he is an idol after all and he’s probably exhausted. At this point the group chat you are in with all the guys is blowing up to the point where you had to silence it once you realized that Hyunjin wasn’t responding or jumping in the conversation.
CHILDREN OF CHAN
|lixie - happy birthday cutie
|hanji - HAPPY BIRTHDAY
|hanji - get ready to party bitch. it’s on
|seungmo - im not getting stuck with han’s shitfaced ass this time
|minhoe - it’s only like one in the morning and you’re already plotting?
|innie - felix get back on league
|channie - im trying to sleep
|seungmo - put your phone on silent then old man
|seungmo - nvm you probably dont know how at ur jurassic age
You let out a small laugh and bite your lip, contemplating if you should thank them or not. Ultimately deciding against it and telling yourself that you’ll do it when you wake up, you turn off your phone and roll over onto your side, soundlessly falling asleep.
10:00 AM
There’s a knock at the door, startling you out of yet another poor attempt at sleeping. You hop out of bed sluggishly and make your way to the living room. To your surprise, Hyunjin is leaning against the doorway, having let himself in with the emergency key you gave him when you first moved in.
“Just in case,” He insisted, “What if something happens and you need me? Or vice versa.” The fact that you believed that would be the only scenario he used it for seemed a bit foolish as he visited more and more.
You spot a somewhat large box, royal blue with a red ribbon on top, in Hyunjin’s hands. He smiles and pushes off the doorway. “I’m sorry to intrude like that, you weren’t answering your phone.” He says when he reaches you.
You shrug, “It’s okay. I was only sleeping.” Hyunjin nods and places the box in your hands with a sly grin, “Open,” He gestures towards the box. You move to the couch and take the lid off the box. The first thing on top is your very own Jiniret. “So you stop kidnapping my child,” Hyunjin laughs and slides onto the couch next to you. The next thing you pull out is an all black hoodie and when you turn it around you see Hyunjin’s name on the back. The small gesture shouldn’t cause butterflies to emerge in your stomach, but it does to your dismay.
You take out the rest of the stuff (a few small fake plants, Versace perfume that you scold him for buying for you, and a couple of his PCs sprinkled in between everything). You finally reach the bottom and furrow your eyebrows when you pull out a blindfold. You look at Hyunjin whose expression has morphed into something mischievous. He moves the box out of your lap and takes the blindfold out of your hands before tying it around your head, obstructing your vision.
“C’mon, stand up.” You do and Hyunjin slides his hand in yours, guiding you somewhere.
After a few moments you assume you’ve reached your bedroom, the smell of your favorite candle filling the air. The door clicks behind you and now you’re hyper aware of Hyunjin’s presence.
“Why are we in my room, Jin?” Instead of answering you, he runs his fingers delicately down your bare forearms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.
“I think we can both agree that we have more than just a normal friendship, don’t you think?” Hyunjin’s voice has noticeably dropped, causing shivers to wrack your body. Your heartbeat quickens so much that you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I asked you a question, baby.”
Are you dreaming? You must be dreaming. There is absolutely no way you aren’t. He would never say anything like this. Right? Right. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Hyunjin places his hands on your hips and presses you flush against his body.
Maybe you aren’t dreaming, judging by the very real, sizable erection digging into your stomach. “Hyunjin I-” You aren’t too sure what to say except to agree with him. He walks you back to the bed and gently lets you down, climbing over you soon after.
“Are you sure?” You know for sure that he would never lie about something like this, especially with you. You’re asking yourself more than you are him.
He toys with the hem of your shirt, “May I?” You nod and raise your arms as he lifts it over your head before immediately attaching his lips to your neck. Hyunjin nips at your shoulder and collar bone before making his way down to your breasts. “Do you want this?”
“Yes, please.” You whine. He unclasps your bra and throws it somewhere. His mouth attacks your right breast, his other hand massaging the other. Your back arches in pleasure and you can’t help but let out a groan. How can’t you when Hwang fucking Hyunjin has his pretty pink lips wrapped around your nipple.
“Fuck, baby. You make the sexiest sounds.” Hyunjin drops to his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down with him. His mouth waters at the sight of his index finger being swallowed whole by your tight heat.
“Holy shit,” You say breathlessly. You raise your hands to take the blindfold but he stops you.
“Not yet, baby. Want to make you come first,” With that he adds another finger and watches, mesmerized, as your cunt takes his digits. The lewd sounds filling the room are enough to make him bust right then and there. He manages to pull himself together though. That is, until he gets a taste of you.
Hyunjin’s tongue slides in between your folds in one flat stripe and he groans. The groan is so deep that you feel it vibrate through your entire being. He traces figure eights across your clit and you swear you're in heaven. His tongue is euphoric and the feeling of his delighted groans are better than ecstasy.
“Hyune, please. I’m almost there.” Your fingers tug at his roots so hard you might have to apologize later. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind very much.
“You’re so good for me, baby. Come on, finish for me. Let me hear those pretty little symphonies of moans.” You clench around his fingers as he increases the pressure on your clit, giving you a knee buckling orgasm. You crash so hard that Hyunjin has to hold up your waist to prevent you from falling.
He chuckles and licks the insides of your thighs clean before rising to his feet and pulling you into a wet kiss, your own juices invading your tastebuds. Hyunjin finally lets you take off the blindfold after helping you sit up. The man in front of you looks so proud of himself with a lopsided grin, your release glistening on his lips.
“Happy birthday, baby.” He pulls you into another kiss and cups your jaw.
“This gonna happen every year?” You smile. Hyunjin shakes his head.
“This is gonna happen whenever you’ll let me.”
#snowyquokka#stray kids#skz#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz x reader#skz reader insert#skz reactions#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin skz#stray kids imagines#hyunjin stray kids#hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin
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Omgg hiii againnn 🫶🏻 paul obsessed girlie here!! (Ur prompt list was so good btw) I think my favs were probably hands under their clothes, or from the dialogue, "god, you're shivering. take my jacket." Or "you don't have to be so genle. i won't break, you know." But honestly I’d be happy with any, all or none of them ur writing is so damn good 🩷🩷🩷
bestieeee aren't we all paul obsessed 🤭🤭 at least i know i am!! thank you for your request sweetheart, im in such a paul mood these days that idk what to do. hope u enjoy this, have a great day (and happy holidays!!) <3<3
paul's hand is soft in yours. the way his thumb brushes along your knuckles makes you smile subconsciously, leaning into him as you walk down the street.
there's a post-dinner-date type of lull hanging over the two of you, a comfortable silence that you really don't mind; you know that paul isn't the most talkative person, so just his presence is more than enough for you. that's why when he finally speaks up, you instantly look up to him. "hey, you-"
your eyes grow worried when he stops right in the middle of the street. you're just about to ask what's wrong when both of his hands cover one of yours, his eyebrows knitted together.
"god, you're shivering."
you hadn't even noticed it yourself, but paul is as attentive as always. you did forget to bring a jacket when you left earlier today, so the cold gusts of wind blow right through the thin material of your outfit. now that he has mentioned it, you suddenly become aware of the goosebumps on your skin and the way you're trembling slightly.
"here," paul starts, shrugging off his suit jacket in one quick motion. "take this."
"are you sure?" you ask, blinking up at him as he stands in front of you, draping the material over your shoulders. "you shouldn't get sick, you have that thing later this week and-"
"i'm sure." his tone is firm but not harsh, the little smile he gives you right after telling you that he doesn't mean any harm; he just wants to take care of you.
"thank you." your cheeks start to redden – you're sure you could blame the cold if he asked, even though it's not the actual reason – and you take his arm in your hands as you continue to stroll. your shivers may have stopped, but the butterflies in your gut still make you a little shakey. it doesn't take long before you reach his car, but instead of opening the door for you like he usually does, paul's hands land on your hips outside of the jacket. he turns you towards him, your hands finding the side of his neck as you look up at him towering over you.
but when he bends down to kiss you, his lips barely even brush against yours.
paul is always so tender, so delicate. his touch is consistently light, always scared to hurt you, never wanting to overstep a boundary. it's sweet and you're thankful he cares so much about making you feel comfortable. but sometimes, you crave something more.
when you lean back to break the kiss, there's a hint of confusion on his face. you take a breath, fingers reaching the back of his neck to play with his hair. "paul, you..." you start, tilting your head. "you don't have to be so gentle with me." you look to the side, feeling yourself crumble under his curious gaze. "i won't break, you know."
his eyebrows shoot up, taken back in surprise. your relationship isn't new per se, though you haven't been together for too long, either. he just always assumed that you wanted to be loved in a soft, gentle way. but now that he knows how you felt, he doesn't exactly complain.
"oh, really?" he asks, his voice making you look back at him instinctively. your eyes are met with his cute smile and his eyes forming those charming little crescents you adore so much. when you nod and take your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a grin, his hands slip past the material of his suit jacket and reach for your sides underneath it. he doesn't just stop there; soon, his fingers dance along the hem of your top, thumbs massaging your skin ever so lightly. "like, now?"
you pause for a second. "yeah..." you're blushing even harder by now, but he doesn't notice because he's already leaned into you and kissed you again. this time, it's not just a brush and he's not treating you like you're made out of glass. his lips are pressing against you with a new type of confidence as his hands move under your top, palms feeling up and down your sides. his grip on you tightens and he backs you up against the side of his car. you let out a surprised yelp into his mouth when your back comes in contact with the cold material, and paul uses the opportunity to let his tongue slip past your now open lips.
as soon as you felt his lips on yours, it was like you both stepped into a bubble, leaving the rest of the world behind. you don't care how much time is passing, you don't care about who's watching; all that's in your mind is this new side of paul.
when he parts from the kiss, you find yourself chasing after him with your lips, disappointed to have ended it already. paul loves your reaction and grins from ear to ear when he looks at you, your eyes closed in bliss and lips slightly red from the kiss. "was that better?" he asks, smugness clear in his tone, and your eyelids slowly open.
you're completely breathless, unable to find any words to suit the situation, but you eventually manage a nod.
he leans down to leave a quick kiss to your forehead before opening the door to the passenger's seat for you. "you ready to go, then?"
maybe you'll have to work on that gentle side of his.
#paul aron#f1#f2#f3#paul aron fluff#paul aron blurb#paul aron fic#paul aron x reader#paul aron x you#paul aron x yn#paul aron x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f2 x reader#f3 x reader#f2 x you#f3 x you#f1 fluff#f2 fluff#f3 fluff
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