#they were SO bored lmaoo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

partystoragechest · 8 months

Text

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan tries to find Dagna's delivery.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,815. Rating: all audiences, except for a swear.)

Chapter 12: Unloading Baggage

Trevelyan hurried down through the bowels of Skyhold, sent with special purpose by Dagna. There was a delivery arriving this afternoon, and Ancestors, her order had better be there!

She had come this way because she thought it might be quicker—but was terribly wrong. Beneath the main hall, Skyhold wound itself in circles, a grand labyrinth of servants’ quarters, kitchens, larders, and washrooms.

A kind laundress pointed her out of one such room, and along a better-suited corridor. It was down this route that Trevelyan finally found her way into the particular kitchen that she had been promised had an external door.

She had hoped to confirm this with the staff working there—but when she wandered into the room, it was remarkably empty. All except for one elven woman, hunched over two jars.

“Excuse me,” Trevelyan said, pointing to the door across the room, “is that the way out?”

The woman looked up. She had funnily-chopped blond hair, incorrectly-laced clothes that did not look like a worker’s wear, and what could only be described as a wicked grin.

Her eyes flicked to the door, then back. “Yeah?”

“Thank you, I will—”

Maintaining eye contact, the woman picked up one of the jars—labelled ‘salt’—and poured its entire contents into the other jar—labelled ‘sugar’. Trevelyan blinked, mouth hanging open.

“Um…”

“You didn’t see nothing, yeah?” the woman challenged. The mischevious glint in her eye made it almost an invitation.

Trevelyan smiled. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

With a cackle, the woman slipped into the shadows. It was this that made Trevelyan realise she’d seen her before—up on the mezzanine, during the gala. She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t eaten anything that night.

Regardless, she had her answer for the door. Trevelyan pushed it open, finally revealing the sun, shining down on Skyhold’s courtyard.

In particular, the stable area, which the kitchen connected to via a small flight of stairs. Trevelyan hesitated to journey down them; their height gave a good vantage of the storeroom entrance below—and the caravan of carts circled around it.

The quietness of the kitchens was at once explained. It seemed that all hands were on deck, scurrying to and fro like industrious insects, helping to unload barrels and crates and sacks. Skyhold had many mouths to feed, and large stores to fill. Finding a small shipment for the Arcanist in this was no easy task.

But Trevelyan endeavoured to find it anyway. She squeezed her way through the hustle, to arrive at the foot of one of the carts.

A human man stood atop it, built well, no doubt from many years at this craft—for he slung boxes and barrels into waiting hands like it were an art form.

“Serah!” Trevelyan called, to catch his occupied attention. “Do you know if any of these are for the Arcanist, Dagna?”

The man slid another box with pinpoint accuracy toward a servant—Trevelyan stepped aside at the last moment—and puffed out air. “Sorry, miss, not seen that name”—he passed off another box—“and you’re not likely to find it now. Better off asking your quartermaster once all this is unloaded.”

“I suspected. Thank you, regardless!”

Trevelyan moved back as he prepared another sack, yet noted when she did that no one came to claim it. Though as many of Skyhold’s staff as could be spared were aiding the delivery, there were about a dozen carts, all piled high. Only so much was possible.

“Would you like me to take that?” she asked.

The man shrugged. “You’re not busy?”

“Finding that shipment, yes—and it seems the quickest way to do so is by helping things along!”

The man chuckled, and hefted the sack towards her. “Can always use more willing hands! How much you carry?”

Very little, since leaving the Circle. Trevelyan certainly hoped her old strength would still be there, but acknowledged privately that she might need a little… assistance.

A week ago she’d not have dared to cast anything in such a public setting, but her work with the Arcanist had relaxed her attitude. And so she snuck a hand behind her back, and traced a small rune against her spine. The energy of the Fade found her little opening, and flowed through.

The old strength returned, and more. Trevelyan clapped her hands around the sack, and with ease, lifted it onto her shoulders. “This is all right,” she told the man.

He nodded. “Get it to the storerooms; should be someone down there to say where to drop it.”

Instructions heeded, Trevelyan set off for the stores. Servants departing nearby carts made the journey easier, for she simply followed them. Into a door, down a long staircase she went, descending even further than she might for the Undercroft. How far down into its mountain plateau did Skyhold burrow?

Eventually, she reached the bottom. No sunlight here—it was a large, torch-lit hall, of which she could barely see the other side—if not due to the distance, then due to the amount of containers already in the place. Skyhold was stocked floor-to-ceiling. Even the stores at the Circle hadn’t been this well-equipped.

Following directions given by waiting pantlers, Trevelyan found where she was to leave her sack. One down, she turned for the stairs, and ascended.

Emerging onto the surface was like venturing through a portal; what ought to be gentle sunlight became glaring and harsh. As Trevelyan blinked it back, she looked to the carts, and saw plenty more to unload.

Back to her cart, then, through the traffic of other workers. Weaving betwixt them, so as not to disrupt their flow, Trevelyan offered a cheery smile to every face.

Until one of them, she recognised.

Trevelyan stopped, and turned back to look at the woman. “Lady Samient?” she asked. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting the Commander?”

Lady Samient grinned, and approached. “We just parted; I saw you from afar. Lady Trevelyan, what are you doing here?”

“Oh!” Trevelyan patted her hands against her smock, to clean the dust. “Well, there’s a shipment I’m hoping to locate, but it doesn’t get found until all the delivery is stored and catalogued, it seems. So, I thought I might help.”

She tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. Like it was actually common for noblewomen to randomly muck in.

But Lady Samient appeared unfazed. She looked to the cart, still largely full (with the rest in a similar state) and shrugged. “Do they need any more hands?”

She couldn’t seriously be offering..?

“I believe so,” said Trevelyan, “there is much to unload.”

Samient loosened the cuffs of her shirt, and began rolling the sleeves up her arm. “Well then, I cannot stand idly by. Show me what to do.”

Trevelyan quickly found her way through her bewilderment, so as not to keep her Ladyship waiting. She beckoned for Samient to follow her to the cart, and said to the deliverer:

“We’ve gained a recruit! Anything needing two to grab it?”

“Ha! Maker’s breath, you ought to be here every week, if you can multiply like that. Here.” He rolled a barrel towards them, and stopped it with his foot. “This’ll do.”

“Thank you.” Trevelyan turned to Lady Samient: “I’ll take this end, you take that end.”

Samient nodded, in the middle of pulling her hair back. She had untied a leather strap from her wrist, and was now using it to create some kind of rudimentary ponytail. Trevelyan could not help glancing towards her ears—but Lady Samient was careful not to expose them.

“All right,” she said, hands clasping around the barrel, “allons-y.”

On a mutual count of three, they hoisted the barrel between them. With her magic yet in effect, Trevelyan might have lifted it alone (barely), but did not wish to discourage Samient’s offer.

Especially as Lady Samient proved quite capable! Though there was little conversation between them on the way down, there was plenty in the way of communication. She would go backward. A count for every step. The instructions were clear, and saw them to the stores.

But Trevelyan could not help but wonder as they went (for the Baroness had put her mind on it) what could be behind this. Lady Samient’s eagerness to help, her seeming comfort with such a task, and the lack of concern over how it might reflect upon her social image—all were curious. All were the sort of traits that, perhaps, might belong to a woman born of a servant; who did not have that haughtiness of high breeding that saw them think themselves better than lifting a barrel. Perhaps that was why instead of the ‘Duchess’ title that ought to be her birthright, she went by the lesser ‘Lady’ instead.

Regardless of its cause, Trevelyan quite liked this side of Lady Samient.

“Did you do this sort of thing, at the Circle?” Samient asked her, barrel deposited and on the upward climb. “You said you worked in their storerooms.”

“Not this, per se,” Trevelyan admitted. “Well, sometimes I moved things—but I was more involved with taking stock and keeping ledgers.”

“Like the quartermaster.”

“Like the quartermaster’s assistant.”

Samient chuckled. “You seem to do a trade in being an assistant.”

Trevelyan smiled. “Stick to what you know.”

They returned, blinking, onto the sunlit surface once more, ready for the next package. Now with practice, they delivered the second barrel to the storerooms even faster and more confidently than the last. Their chatter continued on the way back up:

“We should ask them to open the next one in front of us and settle the debate,” Trevelyan said, joking about their bet as to whether that barrel had contained apples or potatoes.

“If we did,” Samient replied, “it would end up being dried peas instead.”

Trevelyan smiled, about to make some witty remark to win another laugh out of Lady Samient (her new favourite pastime), when another voice interrupted:

“What riveting conversations you have!”

Trevelyan glanced in its direction, and saw Lord—no, Dorian Pavus stood near the storeroom entrance, leant casually against a wall. Forgetting her task momentarily, she hurried up to greet him.

“Dorian! What brings you here?”

Dorian flashed a grin. “I came to see what all the commotion was about.”

“Commotion?”

He tipped his head, quite subtly, towards a spot not far from the collection of carts. There, a small group of soldiers—five or six—had gathered, and were having some kind of whispered conversation. A rather jolly one, too, if the smirks on their faces were anything to go by.

“I overheard them talking about some ‘noble skirts’ that were lugging around barrels. If their laughter was to be believed, it was supposed to be quite amusing,” Dorian explained. “However, it seems to me the most laughable thing around here may be them.”

“Foolish little sword-swingers,” Lady Samient commented, causing Trevelyan to realise she’d followed.

“Never mind them,” Trevelyan told her, “this is Dorian Pavus, of Tevinter. And this is Lady Samient, of Orlais.”

Dorian did a neat little bow. “Of course. A pleasure to meet you. And may I say, I think you have done fine work with these barrels.”

Lady Samient bowed back. “Thank you, Ser Pavus. Charmed.”

Trevelyan concealed a giggle, as Dorian struggled to contain his dislike of the title. But he managed it sufficiently, and moved the conversation along: “Well, that makes two of your number I’ve met now. Perhaps I should be off, in search of the others.”

Trevelyan asked, “You won’t stay and help?”

Dorian laughed. “No! Absolutely not.”

“Oh.”

“But we should speak another time, when you are less occupied. I want to know more of what you’ve been doing in the Undercroft, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Fantastic.” He gave her a wink, and began to make his way. “I’ll see you another time, then. Ladies.”

Trevelyan waved him off, as did Lady Samient. She glanced out to where the soldiers were stood—thankfully, they seemed to have departed as well. Best not to think about it. The carts beckoned.

“Where have I heard the name Pavus before?” asked Samient as they made their way back.

“Noble house in Tevinter,” Trevelyan answered, “part of the magisterium.”

“Ah, yes. He’s a mage as well?”

“Yes.”

Samient flicked her eyebrows upward. “Well, if you’re not quite interested in the Commander, you could do far worse than him.”

“Oh, no,” Trevelyan said, as they reached the cart, “I’m certain he’d be quite flattered by that, but I’m afraid he doesn’t like women.”

“Oh. How rude!”

“No, no—I mean, he likes men.”

“Oh!” Samient rolled her eyes at herself. “Of course. I see how that would be an obstacle for marriage.”

“Quite.”

The man on the cart finished handing off a sack to the servant before them, and grinned to see them apparoach.

“Welcome back. ‘Fraid I’ve no barrels for now, they’re stuck under the rest of the littler stuff. Here, you take something each, get some of this cleared out.”

He grabbed a small crate for Samient, and pushed it towards her. She took it with ease, but waited a moment, for Trevelyan.

“Go,” Trevelyan said, “I’ll catch you.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, do not be idle on my account. Go.”

Samient nodded, and dutifully headed away. Trevelyan turned back, to take up the sack the man had just dropped for her.

But as her hands fell upon it, so did another’s. They were gloved in black, and sudden enough to startle her. She looked to the arms they belonged to—and then the man to whom those arms belonged.

The Commander stared back at her.

(And beside him, five or six sheepish-looking soldiers).

“Forgive me,” he said, releasing his grasp. “I hadn’t realised. Take it.”

This speech sounded more direct than he had ever been before. A play of intensity for his soldiers, Trevelyan surmised.

She returned her hands to the sack, and took it up in her arms. At that moment she recalled the magic she had cast upon herself, and felt it still quietly working away. Yet nothing on the Commander’s face suggested he had sensed it.

“Commander,” she said, with a polite nod.

He nodded back—again, more curt than he had ever done toward her—and turned his attention to the new sack the delivery man was providing. Trevelyan left.

But she kept her ears open as she walked away; eyes glanced back when she was sure they would not be spotted. And what she heard and saw was quite terrifically satisfying.

“We are all the Inquisition,” he lectured to those soldiers, “and instead of aiding the Inquisition, you mock those who do. You may think them foolish, but is them who do more than you. Think on that.”

They were each handed some sack or crate, before the Commander—leading from the front, it appeared—picked one up for himself. Trevelyan hurried her pace, and slipped into the storerooms to stay ahead of them.

She passed Lady Samient on the stairs, and whispered quickly:

“The Commander’s here. Scolded those soldiers!”

Samient remained tight-lipped in her expression, but called back, “I’ll wait for you by the cart!”

Trevelyan deposited her load with haste, and rushed for the stairs. The soldiers and their Commander came the opposite way. She attempted to avoid eye contact, but her gaze could not resist, and ended up on his face anyway. It was fortunate, then, that he glanced as quickly away from her as she did him.

She hurried for the top. Of course, Lady Samient was already there, awaiting her arrival.

“What did he say to them?” she asked the moment she saw Trevelyan.

“I have no idea,” she answered, “but they certainly had their tails between their legs!”

Samient smirked. “Good.”

Trevelyan glanced back down the stairs, and saw the soldiers trudging up. “Come, we’ll only prove them right if we’re not back to work before they arrive.”

Samient quite agreed, and the pair walked swiftly back to the cart—now looking significantly more empty than it once had been.

“Here you are, misses,” said the deliverer, rolling a final barrel towards them, “that ought to do it.”

Trevelyan and Lady Samient each took their side, hefted the barrel with practised ease, and paraded it past the returning soldiers. One bravely asked if they needed help.

The answer was no. And a scathing look.

***

The cart finally unloaded, all others were soon done too. The sorting could begin.

Trevelyan and Samient could have no part in it, for it was Ser Morris’ domain. One would simply have to wait for him to at last locate Dagna’s shipment.

And to do so, the Ladies sat on the end of the cart they’d helped empty, kicking their dangling feet to the same rhythm.

Though the deliverers took similar breaks—the man working their cart sat further up—some of Skyhold’s staff were still bustling about, fetching not only refreshments, but what seemed to be more containers.

Noticing this, Trevelyan asked the man, “Do you take things from Skyhold, too?”

“Aye. Sometimes they have deliveries for us, but usually it’s the empty bits we take back, and fill ‘em up again.”

“How often do you come?” Lady Samient wondered.

“Every week, supposedly—but the Maker has other ideas sometimes. Got delayed this week by weather. No problem, though; I hear you’ve got stores enough to last months.”

Sounded about right to Trevelyan. Any defensible castle did, just in case the enemy ever tried to starve you out.

Lady Samient hummed. “All sounds very efficient. Do they not worry about something untoward sneaking in through these deliveries, though? Seems like you could fit a man in one of those barrels.”

She wasn’t wrong. You could certainly fit a man. Or a Trevelyan. If things ever got too dire, she might squeeze herself into one of those things, and be shipped out on the next delivery to… wherever these carts went to.

But the delivery man shrugged. “I figure they check ‘em. You’d have to ask the soldiers about that.”

Damn. There went that plan.

And as if to make matters worse, as if summoned by the mention of soldiers, Trevelyan noted in her periphery a red-caped man striding to where they sat.

“He’s coming,” she whispered to Samient, who gave only a raise of the eyebrows in reply.

The Commander stopped before the Ladies, and bowed. “Lady Trevelyan, Lady Sam—ient.”

At least she wasn’t the only one whose name he forgot.

Lady Samient leant forward: “Twice in one day, Commander. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

She spoke her words the way silk moves. Interesting. So that was how she behaved around the Commander. Perhaps she had not been lying about her time with him, and the Commander responded well to such affectations.

Or perhaps not. For the Commander did not respond at all to this velvety question, and looked instead to Trevelyan.

“How goes your work with the Arcanist?”

“Very well, Commander,” Trevelyan told him. “We shall have a report for you soon.”

“Good. And you’re—?” He stopped himself, and straightened. “All right. Good. Thank you for your help today. Carry on.”

Abrupt as his speech, he turned and left, and Trevelyan held back her laughter. She waited until he was a good distance away, to look at Lady Samient and roll her eyes.

“I am dreading the possibility of seeing him tomorrow,” she whispered. She had, at morning tea, informed Samient (and Lady Erridge) of her return to the competition. There was little point in keeping it a secret; Lady Samient in particular knew plenty enough already.

But “Mm,” was all Samient said in reply now. Contemplation riddled her face.

Trevelyan quietly begged the Maker for a distraction from her stare. For once in her life, her wish was granted, in the form of a kitchen maid approaching them with drinks.

“Your Ladyships,” she greeted, “fruit cordial, if you wish it. Nice and cold.”

The Ladies thanked her, and took them gladly. The maid smiled to see it, and lingered by their feet.

“You’re the Ladies here to see the Commander, ain’t you?”

Lady Samient raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. And what of it?”

“Well, you were such good help today that… well, there was a lot of sugar in the delivery, you know.” The maid looked to see their faces change, but the Ladies stared back with only confusion. “Well, we need a lot in, you see. Because, well… the Commander has something of a sweet tooth.”

The realisation set in. Lady Samient smiled, and sipped her drink. “Lovely cordial,” she said with a wink.

“’Course, your Ladyship. Best of luck.”

The maid began to slip away. Trevelyan considered herself for a moment, and whether or not she owed loyalty to the little prankster in the kitchen, or the sweet woman she’d just met. It wasn’t a hard choice.

“Excuse me,” Trevelyan called. The maid stopped, and turned back. “Just before the cook uses any of that sugar—perhaps a little taste test, may be in order. Your kitchen had a mischeivous visitor, earlier.”

Though the maid seemed confused for a moment, and Trevelyan worried she’d misspoke, her face soon resolved into recognition, then annoyance. “Oh, that Sera!”

As the maid marched away, Trevelyan recalled the name. Sera. Dagna had mentioned that one. From the description and what she’d caught her doing, Trevelyan safely assumed they were one and the same.

The delivery man suddenly piped up from behind. “Sorry, but did them all say that you were Ladies? Like, nobles?”

They nodded.

“I am Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick,” said Trevelyan.

“And I am Lady Samient of Samient,” said Samient.

The man’s eyes flew wide open. “Oh, shit. Sorry! I mean, sorry, your Ladyships. If—if I’d known that, I’d have given you the lighter barrels. I swear!”

Lady Samient and Trevelyan looked at each other, and laughed.

***

Ser Morris finally delivered—in the literal sense. Trevelyan raced back to the Undercroft, a small chest in her hands.

Dagna was surprised to see her: “I won’t lie, I thought you just quit for the day.”

But Trevelyan was quite able to explain, and Dagna was quite satisfied that she had used her time with good purpose. It did help that finally seeing her order put Dagna in something of a good mood.

She placed it upon a workbench, and opened it slowly. Even Trevelyan recognised what was inside.

“New enchanting tools,” Dagna said, “straight from the finest smiths in Orzammar. With these, I can do things a little more delicately. Which means the time for theory is over—tomorrow, we truly begin!”

Trevelyan bit her lip. “Well, actually,” she murmured, “tomorrow… I’m with the Commander.”

#cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #commander cullen #unwanted #unwanted fic #i keep getting in my head about this fic #like theres been so little cullen so far because we were in the 'two leads seeing each other across rooms' stage #and im like idk is this boring #im writing chapters the length of my university dissertation for bag moving scenes lol #but at the end of the day you write fics for yourself first and i'm having fun #posting this is my way of actually committing to writing the whole damn thing lmaoo

9 notes · View notes

ofdraiocht · 11 months

Text

i havent played 3H in a while but i do remember that mortal savant felix was an op powerhouse who could clear most stages single handedly

#i should be in bed lmaoo #but guh my playthroughs were always so boring lmao #I ALWAYS went blue lions #they are my bebes and i do not forsake my bebes #but yeah #felix felt like a broken character lmao cause i mean #i would just send him ahead and clear the way most of the time #and everyone else would just trail along behind him #him dima and byleth were always the ones i paid the most attention to #i am obviously more for offence over....any thing else #i gotta replay one day soon #ooc #tbd #if i dont do that ask before i sleep i will do it tomorrow!

2 notes · View notes

simplykenni · 1 year

Note

You said today’s not your day and I was gonna send a cute & motivational (ew) pic but I only found cute so: <333

Not (ew) shsjakakak

I love you! *mwuah*

#I always appreciated when you sent these because they were so timely #I'm too boring for my life to be this dramatic!#or maybe *i'm* just a drama queen 🤔#the sticker is on my computer lmao #anwayyys I'm rambling thank you lil sis #aria💞#oh did ya notice I'm getting better at telling ppl 'love you' lmaoo #growth

3 notes · View notes

xannerz · 1 year

Text

gonna,,, attempt to join a d&d oneshot this sat w my friends and im aggressively tryin to scribble up char ideas 🐌

#honestly havent had great exps w d&d irl or on disc lmao #the vibes were weird and i find the combat mechanics boring and tedious lmao #i like fate or dread a lot more but we'll see #just grateful 3 of my friends immediately offered to build the actual character sheet out for me like god bless 🙏#anyway i like this oc so far but she's not fitting the vibe of what i'm going for so i might recycle her for smthn else lmaoo #xanswips

2 notes · View notes

romqnticstylez · 2 years

Text

anyway hi

#today was so fuckinf funny lmaoo #ugh i could’ve skipped badminton today with no one noticing or caring but 😔#anwyay i was REALLY bored but like these five ppl. two of them classmates i don’t talk to #they KNEW i didn’t give a fuck what they were talking about (classmate 1 was like. rose is here. didn’t hear what they were talking about #but anyway. classmate 2 who is actually hands guy was like. she doesn’t care)#to be clear #they were sitting near me #anyway they had NO filter it was the weirdest conversation i’ve heard likejakdjs #they were talking about how the piano teacher flirted with students and i’m like ????!!!??#anyway. bye

6 notes · View notes

deadghosy · 2 months

Note

Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

2K notes · View notes

heeliopheelia · 2 months

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐁𝐑𝐎

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.7k

warnings: hoon’s quite suggestive, jake’s hinting suggestive content but it’s really up to your own interpretation lmaoo, kissing

a/n: yayyy, this one has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER!! so glad to finally put it out...

masterlist

LEE HEESEUNG

You can’t help but chuckle into his lips, teeth clashing slightly when his cold hands make contact with the skin underneath your top. Heeseung pulls away from the kiss, raising his eyebrow at your behavior before realizing that the reason for your laughter comes from the touch of hands.

Already knowing his ill intentions of tickling you by his expression, you put your hands over his and speak before you can even think of your words first.

“Bro, don’t even-”

Your words are interrupted with a loud scoff. “What did you just call me, you little witch?”

“Hey!”

“You see, things like that really make me rethink our relationship.”

You burst out laughing away before shoving his face away gently. “You’re so mean.”

“You’re the mean one for even letting such words come to your mind while addressing me.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile before grabbing his neck and trying to smush your lips together. A whine rips out of your throat when he denies you your kiss and looks at you as if you were crazy.

“Just come here, you dramatic ass! I haven’t seen you in a whole week!”

Heeseung flicks your nose instead. “Exactly! You haven’t seen me in an entire week and the first word that comes to your mind is bro. Really?”

You groan loudly, throwing your head back as you prepare yourself for the next fifteen minutes of bickering with your boyfriend. “Oh my god-”

PARK JAY

“Why would you ever call me that, oh my god.”

His frown is enough to make you burst out with chuckles. You grab onto his arm as you catch up to him, letting the glass door of the small convenience store shut behind you.

“I thought that was funny,” you chirp up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently.

“And in public too? You really want me to go gray before my thirties, don’t you?”

You raise your arm up and run your hand through his soft hair, pretending to actually consider his question. “I think you’d actually look rather hot with salt-pepper hair, you know? You’d look ravishing with any hairstyle, really.”

Jay sends you an unamused look as you keep giggling. “Sweet words aren't gonna get you anywhere, miss.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” you finally fold as you slip your hand into his.

Jay intertwines your fingers without skipping a beat, before tugging on your arm and pulling you even closer to him.

“Please, don’t ever do that again. I might actually go crazy.”

SIM JAKE

You look with slight disappointment at your boyfriend occupied with his game – too occupied to notice you’ve called him a bro instead of baby for the second time this past five minutes. Sitting boredly on his bed, you sigh again.

“What is it, angel?” Jake asks, eyes drawn to the screen and never sparing you a look.

You never minded when he spent his evenings gaming, you know everyone has their own stress relievers, but tonight you were just so damn bored you didn’t know what else to do.

“Nothing, bro,” you snap a little sharper than intended, slightly irked by his innocent negligence. “I’m gonna order some take out. What do you want?”

Only then, couple seconds of silence later, your words seem to click and Jake pauses his game and turns to you with a slightly perplexed expression. “Wait… Could you repeat that?”

You roll your eyes. “I said, I’m gonna order som-”

“No, that word you’ve just called me,” he cuts you off with a pout. “Why would you say that?”

You shrug, dragging out your upset act although there’s barely a spark of annoyance in your system by now.

“Dunno. Maybe I just wanted my boyfriend to pay attention to me finally after I’ve been begging for it for an hour now.”

Jake coos at you before standing up and walking over to you, abandoning his game completely and engulfing you in his embrace.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbles into your neck as you fall backwards on his bedsheets, your boyfriend on top of you. He kisses up a trail up to your jawline, then moves to your lips for a moment and dragging it out longer and longer. “Lemme make it up to you, huh?”

PARK SUNGHOON

“What’s gotten you so quiet?” Sunghoon asks as he nudges you with his hip, standing right beside you.

You finish washing your face before patting it dry with a towel, ignoring his questioning look as he pierces you through the mirror. You put the towel next to the sink before sighing.

“I don’t know, bro,” you say, biting your smile back as you notice his eyebrows raising up at the unusual nickname. “I guess I’m just tired.”

Sunghoon snorts quietly before turning to face you, leaning his hip against the marble counter. “Really?”

You look at him with fake confusion, tilting your head to the side as you blink innocently. “What do you mean?”

“If I remember correctly, I was just blowing your back out ten minutes ago and now you’re here calling me this fraternal slur?” He claps back, smiling lazily as your eyes go wide at his bold words.

“Sunghoon! Oh my god,” you gasp, smacking his bare chest with your towel. “Have you got no shame?”

He barks out a laugh before walking up to you and grabbing you by your hips. “Maybe that’ll make you think twice before trying your stupid shit on me again.” And as these words leave his mouth, he’s leaning down and smacking his lips onto yours, already pulling you to your bedroom again.

KIM SUNOO

“A WHAT?”

Your arms fall to your sides, and you watch as your beloved boyfriend goes into a fucking spiral over a nickname that’s just slipped out by an accident. “Sunoo, baby, please, calm d-”

“I know you did not just call me bro. Don’t ever talk to me again.”

You follow him out of the kitchen from where he storms out, an outraged expression on his face. You stifle your laughter and put on a serious facade as he drops down on the couch with an irritated huff, muttering under his nose about how unbelievable you were being.

You take a seat next to him and place your hand on his thigh. “I swear, I only said that out of habit.”

“Yeah, what’s next in the store for me?” He asks and this time you can’t help but chuckle. “No, tell me. When should I be prepared for you to start calling me homie or gang?”

“It’s not that serious!” You laugh in his face, only making his expression more sour. But how can you help it when he looks at you as if you’ve just pissed in his cereal bowl?

“I’ve literally never been more offended in my life.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pepper his cheeks with kisses, hoping this will ease him out sooner. “I’m sorry, my beloved, my heart, my everything.”

“Keep talking and you might be forgiven somewhere in the future.”

YANG JUNGWON

“I was thinking about buying that one perfume lately,” you say suddenly, eyes planted at the tv as the commercial reminded you of your last trip to the mall.

“Are you sure?” Jungwon hums, resting his head over yours that’s leaned on his shoulder. “It was rather expensive, no? I don’t want you regretting buying it two days later.”

“I know, bro,” you groan and turn your face to bury it in his neck. You don’t notice his head tilting to look at you a little questionably. “That’s why I’m thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ll actually commit.”

There’s a brief silence before his sweet voice follows after the kiss he presses to your hair.

“I don’t think that’s my name, baby.”

You pull away, slightly confused, blinking up at your boyfriend. “What?”

“Out of all the nicknames you’ve given me, I liked that one the least.”

It takes you a moment to click and finally comprehend his words, and when you do, you let out a small huff at his still rather soft way with words.

You wrap your arms around his middle. “Oh… Sorry, I didn’t actually mean to say that.”

“It’s okay,” he assures quickly, bringing you closer to his warm chest, a steady heartbeat beating underneath his sweatshirt.

“Well, which one do you like the most?” You ask, implying to his previous thought.

Jungwon ponders for a moment. “Hm, I don’t know. I like all of them, really. Won is pretty nice, or my love… I like dumpling surprisingly a lot too.”

You can’t help but laugh at his answer, mind barely recalling the one and only time you jokingly referred to him as a dumpling while you pinched on his dimpled cheek lovingly.

“Gosh, you’re so cute.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

“Can you pass me the salt, bro?” You ask your boyfriend who’s sitting on your left.

You’re too focused on frowning upon the bland food you’ve made to notice how Riki’s eyebrows furrowed up at his new nickname.

After not having a response in the following minute, you turn to him with surprise as you notice the look on his face.

“I don’t know, sis, I think your hands are fully capable, no?” He chirps at you and you gape at him with confusion before the realization dawns on you.

You snort, shaking your head at your boyfriend. “Don’t be a child, I didn’t mean to say that. It just slipped out.”

Riki hums. “Dunno, it sounded pretty natural to me, sis. Almost as if it was your regular nickname for me, sis.”

“Stop it!” You whine out, dropping your fork before glaring at the smirking man on your left. “I didn’t mean it. Now, give me a kiss.”

You pucker your lips and lean forward, only to be met with his hand pressed flat to your mouth. Your eyebrows shoot high as he chuckles at you.

“Sorry but I’m not into incestious relationships.”

“Riki, c’mon!” You groan, kicking his shin underneath the table harmlessly.

He cups your cheeks with a laugh and squishes your face with his fingers. “‘m just teasing,” he muses before leaning in and closing the gap between you.

permanent taglist @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth @seungiesluv @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt

2K notes · View notes

mirohlayo · 7 days

Note

Hi, can I request a Reader x F1 grid story where reader breaks her arm/leg and she can't race because of it, but she still attends the races to watch with her team? And then the drivers start to draw on her cast as a feel better soon gesture.

Maybe she also posts it on her social media throughout the day to show fans the progress of the drawings.

Thank you so much xxx

P.S. Love you writing

Hi !! So as you requested I used the F1 grid, but only the drivers who I write for originally (+ Albon). I also wrote reader as a F1 Academy driver to make it more easy to write and more realistic. It's the first time I write something like this, so hope you'll enjoy it girll !! ᥫ᭡

DRAWINGS ON MY BROKEN ARM

( because maybe you just need some love from your handsome friends. )

warning : none just a broken arm, a cast and fluff

note : I really struggled a lot to find some good cast pictures, these ones are a bit awful lmaoo sorry

word count : 1.3k

It was not planned. This was absolutely not what was planned.

As you get out of the car with difficulty, greeting pleasantly the driver who kindly accompanied you to the Suzuka circuit, you try as best you can not to move your arm too much. If you make unnecessary efforts you will tire yourself out for nothing.

You absolutely did not choose to break your arm. It was due to a mistake, a very big mistake indeed. While you were testing your car during free practice, during a session where the falling rain flooded the track with water, your tires did not grip effectively and you found yourself thrown against the wall, in a fairly serious crash. surprising.

The teams immediately helped you, and while everyone was asking you if you were okay after this crash, that's when you realized a big problem: yes, you were okay, but not your arm. . And after a short stay in the hospital, you now find yourself - or rather your arm - stuck in an amazing cast.

You obviously cannot participate in the next F1 Academy races. But you can, however, do something else that is much more energetic and beneficial for you in the state you are in: attend the F1 race which is currently taking place in Japan.

After all, being locked up for almost a week in your apartment was totally boring and you really need a little fresh air, and above all the passion for this sport to stimulate. Being a very close friend of certain drivers, you did not hesitate for a single second to accept your team's proposal when they offered to accompany you to the Suzuka GP.

Now there you are in the paddock, trying to slip through the others to get to the Mercedes garage. There where you find Georges, who smiles with all his teeth at the sight of you.

“Hello you” He walks over to you and starts to wrap his arms around you in order to give you a hug, but a reflex immediately makes him step back. “Oh sorry, I forgot you have a... little problem” He struggles to finish his sentence, grimacing at the sight of your wrapped arm in a cast.

You giggle before patting his shoulder. "Are you better since your crash? I saw that a few days ago and I was really scared for you." His eyes scan you, he is worried about you. You smile softly at him to reassure him. "Don't worry. I may have a broken arm but that won't stop me from supporting you in this race."

“Oh, Y/n!” Lewis' voice calls out to you, and you turn to face him, Charles next to him. They both smile at you, taking care not to touch your arm so as not to hurt you further. "I'm so sorry about your crash. You must definitely be disappointed." Lewis affectionately caresses your shoulder, a show of affection and support.

"At least you're alive, that's the main thing. It's good to see you here, the other guys miss you you know." Charles explains the situation, telling you how worried and scared the pilots were following your accident. You also received several messages from them on instagram, in which they supported you and showered you with kind words.

“Y/NNN!!” Daniel screams your name from afar, a big smile on his face as he almost throws himself at you. “Hey watch out for his arm.” Lewis alerts Daniel so he doesn't hurt you, but he doesn't seem to hear anything and comes to take you in his arms. “Daniel, I’ll go back to the hospital if you continue.” He finally pulls away, carefully observing your cast.

“Maybe I should call the others, they’ll be happy to see you.” Charles volunteers to bring the other drivers back, while you chat with your friends. They are all very respectful and very attentive, they are sincerely empathetic towards you.

In the distance, you finally see the rest of the boys arriving.

“Here’s my girl.” Lando comes to wrap his arm around your shoulders, a smirk present on his lips. You push him away, grimacing to tease him, and he holds his heart as if you had just broken it into a thousand pieces. "I know I shouldn't have sent you that 'get well soon' with a red heart on Instagram, hypocrite." He pretends to roll his eyes but his smile betrays him.

"Indeed, you shouldn't have. Your teammate was the first to message me and that's why he's my favorite boy today." Oscar tssk while crossing his arms, however amused by the situation. Max, Carlos and Alex are discreetly added to the group that has just formed around you.

“Even with a broken arm, you can do a lot of things you know.” Max told you in a confident manner. “Like Lance last year.” Carlos chuckled at Lando, both nodding at the same time because they thought the same thing. You can't help but feel alive again.

It's true that the last few days were difficult. Alone, injured and locked in your apartment, you no longer had much of a taste for life. You kept asking yourself questions about your future, about the rest of the races of the year. You were also worried. But you knew that coming here, being surrounded by your closest friends again, laughing and talking with them, was all you needed. You can only be grateful to them.

“I have an idea guys!” Alex then exclaims, drawing attention to himself. “Since Y/n is injured, and her cast is… white and bland, we should draw to give her courage.” He said while pointing at your cast. The other drivers nod, agreeing with the Williams driver's idea.

“I will have the honor of drawing first!” Then begins George, who is already ready to fight to have his drawing on your cast. "She wants a drawing of her favorite driver which is me. Too bad for you, George." Lando, and his sassy attitude, is ahead of the Mercedes driver. “I bet I draw better than all of you so let me do it.” Carlos steps forward to assert himself.

They seem to be on the verge of fighting over who will have the honor of drawing best, or who will draw first. You laugh while calming the situation. "Look, you're all going to be able to draw. We just need some markers." You remark, as you wave to your team in the distance to help you.

It doesn't take long before they arrive with a small pencil case filled with different colored markers. You then sit on a chair in a corner of the garage, the nine drivers around you. Oscar is the first to draw on your cast, while the others are still fighting over who will go second.

In the end, after a good session of laughter and slightly failed drawings, the result is there. Your plaster is decorated with designs, each one as extravagant as the last, but that doesn't matter, because their intention comes from the heart. This sincere gesture will certainly give you courage for the rest of your adventure, you are sure of it.

And as they all give you one last smile, one last hug, they leave to prepare for the approaching race. You end up joining your team further in the VIP stands, ready for the start of the race. “What a beautiful cast” Your engineer nods at the magnificent designs on your arm, and you smile. “Beautiful may not be the word, but it’s very precious to me for sure.”

And as you share a laugh, the red lights go out, as the din of cars echoes throughout the circuit. For a moment, everything seems wonderful. It's crazy how a simple little attention like drawings can brighten up your day a little more. And can also brighten up the day of others, like those of your fans for example...

yourusername just posted !

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others...

yourusername: maybe no more arm but at least I have my handsome boyys ❤️

view comments

danielricciardo: if anyone wonders who drew the beautiful star, it’s me ✌️😁

⤷ landonorris: you wrote on her arm instead of her cast you dickhead

⤷ danielricciardo: I was feeling different 😜

user: Alex just writing his name makes absolutely sense

user: no cuz they're literally the SWEETEST ahww

⤷ yourusername: only oscar cuz he's the one who drew the best

⤷ danielricciardo: but you said it was me earlier

⤷ yourusername: i lied plus you literally drew on my SKIN instead of my cast 😠

landonorris: my girl not giving any credits to my amazing beautiful drawing 💔

⤷ yourusername: yeah cuz you have no talent, keep it up it's awful mate 🔥🔥

⤷ landonorris: hypocrite I hate you

charles_leclerc: take care of yourself y/n ❤️

georgerussell63: I slayed, my drawing is lit

⤷ yourusername: no 🙄🥱

user: i need friends as precious as them, love their friendship !!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 grid x reader #f1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russel x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #alex albon x reader

958 notes · View notes

luv4kozume · 11 days

Text

💋 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 — MATT STURNIOLO

— # ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥…

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ! ❞ 🎧 ₊˚⊹

Homewrecker!Matt x Married!Fem!Reader

Contains: Swearing, hella plot/slow burn, mentions of financial abuse and an unhappy marriage, pet names, flirting, teasing, age gap (reader is 26, matt is 21), drinking alcohol, cheating, praise, spit, handjob, oral (both ways), missionary, leg lock, drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampie. Semi-proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you and your next door neighbor, Matt, have some underlying attraction towards each other. But there is just one teensy little obstacle standing in the way… your “loving” husband.

Word Count: 7,975

a/n: part of the TRIPLE THREAT EVENT with sienna and maggie!! BE SURE TO READ THEIR FICS TODAY TOO!! 💗💗

a/n(2): this plot popped into my head at the most random time and it was so good that i had to take ‘cheating’ off my guidelines in my request rules??? 🤯

a/n(3): @rootbeerworshiper this was the little plot twist i told you about since the song is about a guy convincing an older woman to get with him (i really had to dissect those lyrics). hopefully i lived up to the expectation of the song lmaoo

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

It was hardly 10:06 A.M. on a weekday and your husband, John, was already starting the day off in a sour mood.

John had worked for a large advertising company and had held the title of the household’s ‘breadwinner’ rather proudly.

Perhaps a bit too proudly.

For the longest you’ve wanted to branch out and have something going on for yourself. However, having the luxury of financial freedom had never been in the cards for you, since he would always dismiss any notion of yours.

He would always say that ‘a woman should stay in the home’ or ‘it would make him seem less of a man if his wife was making money’.

He often hid behind the ‘traditional man’ role, as if that made up for his misogynistic and narcissistic behavior. Not that there’s anything wrong with being traditional, in fact you’d prefer some of those aspects of him.

But in reality he wasn’t ‘traditional’ in the slightest. Just a financially abusive asshole that you had been married to for the past six years.

You don’t even know how you’ve made it this long in the relationship, yet here you were, sitting at your white vanity in your shared bedroom. Face to face with your tired reflection in the dainty mirror.

A white bath towel wrapped tightly across your chest and draped over your thighs. An array of water droplets laid across your chest and shoulders from your previous morning shower.

As John was getting dressed in the next room for a meeting, you were doing your makeup for absolutely nothing.

Your days at home were rather boring. Usually consisting of binging your favorite shows, cooking, or reading.

Recently you had added tanning to the brief list now that it was finally warming up for summer. You enjoyed going out into the backyard and sitting by the pool, taking in the fresh air and a good book in hand. Your husband didn’t particularly like this new activity of yours.

Your eyes dropped down to the various makeup products scattered across the countertop. You grabbed ahold of your eyebrow brush, bringing up to your face and flicking the hairs up with the soft bristles.

“Y/N!” Your husband shouted from the bathroom, the sudden harshness of his voice had made you jump in your seat.

“Yes?” You huff, bringing your hand down away from your face and resting your elbow against the surface.

You straighten up your posture as you heard his footsteps press down into the carpet, making their way towards you in a rush. The bathroom light illuminated in the distance, giving his dark suited silhouette a slight golden hue as he stood in the doorframe frantically adjusted his collar.

“Have you seen my favorite tie?” He groaned in annoyance as if you had purposely hidden the piece of clothing in a form of pettiness.

“No, I haven’t.” You reply shortly before reverting your attention back towards the mirror.

You heard him grumble something under his breath before he started yanking at the dresser drawers in attempt to find another tie. But you chose to ignore his desperate plea for attention.

It was best to not even engage whenever he would get like this, so you completely tuned out his presence and continued your makeup routine. Once your were satisfied with your brows you went in for the primer.

Usually doing your makeup made you feel better about staying home and rotting away, but having his presence so close to you at the moment was spoiling everything. You couldn’t even enjoy yourself with your own husband around.

You couldn’t decipher if you felt more agitated or guilty in this moment. All you knew was that you just couldn’t wait for the very second he’d leave for his meeting and you’d finally have some time alone.

“Found it.” He mumbled, slowly dragging his feet along the carpet towards you. He stood over you as you moved on to the next step in your routine, concealer. He watched as you pressed the product into your cheeks. “You know I prefer you without all that, right?”

This was his lame attempt in striking up a conversation between the two of you. Most of the time they reign unsuccessful and resulted into a petty argument instead.

“I don’t do it for you.” You muttered under your breath, but your were certain he had heard you anyway. You didn’t care either way at this point, why wouldn’t he just leave you alone? Couldn’t he tell that you were upset?

John let out a sigh before recollecting his thoughts, you could hear the gears turning in his twisted head as he articulated what he should say next.

“Are you going to the pool again?” He asked, his tone hinted with just the slightest bit of irritation as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah?” You say, glancing up at him for a spilt second before dropping your eyes down to grab your bronzer. “Why does it matter? You’re out all day for hours at a time and I have nothing to do.”

“Because I don’t like that kid next door.” He snapped back.

“Matt?” You say innocently. The sound of the neighbor’s voice rolling off your tongue so smoothly had him sick to his stomach.

“Yes, Matt.” He retorted in a mocking tone. “I don’t fucking like him.”

“Well first of all, he’s a grown man, not a kid.” You huff out in annoyance. “And he’s just a friendly neighbor, he’s harmless.”

His eyes dropped down to your left hand before bringing them back up to your tired expression before muttering, “Right. Well, make sure to have your ring on while you’re out there.”

Your brows furrowed together and you straightened up in your seat. Your lips parted slightly to speak but he was already stomping down the steps and rushing to the front door.

“I was in the shower..” You mumbled in defeat as if he could still hear you. All while staring down at your bare ring finger.

*ೃ༄

It had been a couple hours since your husband had finally left and you were already starting to feel a lot better. The blazing June sun shone down brightly, giving the pool a shimmery look as a few waves began rippling.

You laid yourself across one of the white lounge chairs your had with a bikini on and one of your favorite books in hand. You had read it at least three times at this point but you just couldn’t get enough of it. Besides, what else were you left to do? At least you were getting some fresh air.

The pages had you lost in trance until the brash noise of a door slamming shut caught your attention. You straightened up your posture, looking over towards the right where the noise had derived from. Just over the brown, wooden fence that separated your yard from your neighbor’s.

The same neighbor that your husband absolutely despised. He had often complained that the fence wasn’t high enough and that he even caught Matt peering over at you while you tan.

The mere thought of that was flattering but you truly believed that everything he did was harmless. Matt never made you feel uncomfortable so you didn’t particularly mind his wandering eyes or suggestive words. Especially when you weren’t getting much attention from your husband anyway.

“Matt!” You shouted with a smile, wrapping your thin covering up over your chest slightly. You extended your arm out to wave at him, grinning ear to ear like a little school girl with a crush when he smiled back at you.

You tossed your book into the seat and slipped into your flip flops. Making your way through the grass to lean over the fence to get a better look at him.

Matt lived alone and it was quite obvious that his entire place lacked a woman’s touch. You often teased him about his backyard, as it was littered with various wild flowers and weeds. Not to mention the overgrown grass that he was in the process of cutting at the very moment.

“Hey, peach.” Matt smirked, rising up from the ground to get a better look at you.

You glanced down at his lawnmower, the old beaten up machine surely had seen better days.

“Finally mowing your grass?” You tease.

“Yeah.” He sighed with a playful shrug. “It looks like it’s about that time, what do you think?”

“Yeah, definitely long over due.” You laugh.

Your hands nervously fell to your side as Matt rested his forearms against the fence. Dirt covered gloves wrapped around his hands, along with a red tee and chain dangling over his chest. You nearly had to squint at the miniature silver horse as it shimmered in the bright sun. His shaggy brown hair spewed out from the sides where his red cap didn’t reach, the bill of it resting on the back of his neck.

His striking blue eyes flickered down to your figure, taking in the way your bikini left little to the imagination. Wrapping around so snuggly in all the right places.

You were fairly older than him— and married. Something that you would often say. But it felt as though you were trying to convince yourself of the fact rather than giving him a gentle reminder.

Personally, Matt wouldn’t give a fuck if you were married, engaged, or single. And he certainly didn’t mind the fact that you were a tad bit older. To him, age was just a number.

He knew exactly what he wanted and he was going to continue pursuing until he got it. You didn’t seem too opposed to this either. He wasn’t an idiot, he caught onto the way you’d blush whenever he was around or how you would find the silliest excuse to talk to him over the fence.

The attraction could be sniffed out from a mile away and he was certain that his feelings were mutual. He just had to pull them out of you. However, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. All he had to do was patiently wait for that green light.

But that didn’t completely stop him from dropping ‘subtle’ hints.

“What about you?” Matt nodded his head up with a smirk. “What are you gonna do today?”

“Oh, nothing probably.” You sigh, you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment.

“One of those days again?” He replied.

You nodded, “Mhm, John went out for another meeting this morning. So it’s just me at home.”

“I’m sorry, peach. I don’t like that he leaves you alone in that house for so long.” Matt replied, pursing his lips to think about what he should say next. Whether it was appropriate enough for him to say aloud, “You know I’d never do that to you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Is all you could mumble out. A shy smile creeping up on your face, earning a chuckle from him.

“How long is he gonna be out for?” He asked.

“He should be back sometime this evening. I’m not sure the exact time since his work schedule is so sporadic.” You explain, trying your best to play off the disappointment in your voice with a laugh.

Matt clicked his tongue in thought, knowing exactly what he desired most at the moment. Just the mere thought of you all alone in that house prancing around in that tight little swimsuit of yours—or better yet, nothing at all—had his dick pressing through the rough fabric of his jeans.

You had his mind racing with lascivious thoughts. However, it would be best if he didn’t voice these ideas, but you were just dying to know.

“What?” You inquired, slightly tilting your head to the side.

“Nothing, peach.” He laughed, dropping his head to hide his flushed cheeks. Matt has mentioned a bundle of scandalous things to you before— to which you always brushed off as if they never happened. However, his sudden meekness this time around had caught you off guard.

What was on his mind this time may have been the most outlandish thing of them all. He didn’t know how you would react, how you would handle such words. It was best to keep them to himself. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel upset or any discomfort from his own doing. He would never forgive himself.

But this didn’t stop you from still wanting to know what was on the brunette’s mind. He could only hope that a watered down version of what he originally wanted to say will suffice.

“I was just gonna suggest��” He began as he sheepishly rose his head back up. His primal gaze locking in with your shy eyes. “…that maybe you could come in with me.” He says pointing his thumb back towards his brick house behind him.

“Just so you won’t be so lonely.” He added in hopes to reel you in, watching you nervously shift on the heels of your feet.

Unfortunately, your mind and your heart were not on the same page, therefore the only correct answer would be, “I… don’t think I should.”

Matt couldn’t help but drop his eyes lower, seeing that your ring finger was still bare. He had noticed that you stopped wearing your wedding ring a couple weeks ago.

You always came up with the most outlandish excuses as to why you never wore the damn thing. Eventually he stopped pestering you about it, assuming that there was a deeper meaning why it was never around your finger. He didn’t want to force that information out of you, he could only hope that you’d tell him in your own time.

The way your smile slowly dropped from your face tugged at his heart, he didn’t like seeing you so upset about it. Maybe he should have articulated his words a bit more carefully.

“It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Matt reassured you with a soft chuckle, “I gotta get this thing started, but you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Matt.” You reply.

*ೃ༄

Hours passed since you last spoke to Matt— or anybody for that matter. The sun was beginning to set for the evening, the sky turning various colors of soft yellows and pastel pinks. The golden rays from the source shone through your livingroom window, giving your home’s interior a gentle glow.

You had changed into some more comfortable clothes earlier and were now snuggled down into the plush cushions of the couch with a large blanket draped over you.

The television was on but you weren’t paying it any attention. You tuned out the white noise of the characters speaking as your scrolled through the apps on your phone.

You hadn’t been able to get Matt’s words out of your head, “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

A frustrated sigh seeped out from you. You knew that it was immoral of you to be thinking of another man under your circumstances but there was this longing for him that you just couldn’t shake.

Something about him was just so comforting… so alluring. You wanted to have deep and meaningful conversations with him rather than just brief, friendly talks over the fence.

You wanted to dissect his brain, to learn him inside and out. What he liked and disliked. What he does in his spare time. If he thinks about you as often as you think of him. You craved for his presence and you ached for his attention.

Your phone buzzed in your hands, pulling you out of your thoughts. You felt your stomach churn with dread as you realized it was your husband who had texted you instead of the person you needed the most.

John

‘I won’t be back until late tonight. Going out to dinner with coworkers.’ at 7:12 p.m.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you and John had been out to dinner together.

You weren’t sure if you should be feeling more angry or ecstatic over his message. This was the official green light that your heart had been waiting for since the day you met Matt.

But your brain was screaming the complete opposite. John was your husband and pursuing anything romantic or even sexual with Matt would be cheating. How would he handle that? How could you live with yourself after the fact?

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard to reply to his message, until another notification buzzed at the top of the screen. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach when you noticed it was Matt who texted you.

Matt :)

‘Shameless, huh?’ at 7:14 p.m.

You look up from your screen, eyes now glued to your tv in front of you. His text referring to the show you were watching. You looked out the window over to your right, seeing that Matt was standing on the sidewalk just inches away from the grass in your front yard.

What perfect timing.

He was still wearing the same clothes as before, this time he wasn’t alone though. He had his dog, Trevor, with him. You smile as you point towards your front door, beckoning for him to come meet you at the porch. To which he happily complies.

The heavy door creaked open as you pulled it in towards yourself. A bashful smile crept on your face once you locked eyes with your neighbor, “Hi.”

“Hey,” He spoke, mirroring your happiness. “You changed your mind yet, peach?”

“Maybe.” You reply with a playful shrug. “But… I’d be more comfortable having you come in with me instead of the other way around.”

“What about John?” He asked, his brows furrowing together in confusion.

“He went out to dinner with some of his coworkers.” You explained. “He won’t be back until later tonight.”

“Okay, cool.” He smirked. His eyes flickered down to the ground where Trevor was, giving the leash attached to his collar a gentle tug. “Just let me put Trev back in the house and I’ll be right over.”

You nodded and watched them both step down from the steps of your porch before you shut the door.

*ೃ༄

“Do you drink by any chance?” You ask Matt, your sweet voice coursing through him as it echoed from the kitchen.

He sat perked up on the couch, his back straight up against the cushions and his thighs slightly parted from each other. His eyes shot over to you, your back faced him as you rummaged through your silver fridge.

“Anything you wanna do, I’m down.” He replied, you didn’t have to look at him to know that there was a cocky grin plastered across his face. You could hear it in his tone.

“Red wine then?” You reply, turning around as you waved the nearly full bottle of alcohol in your hand.

His smile only grew larger as he nodded in agreement, his cheeks flushing up to match the same rosy color as the beverage. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you reached up in your cabinet to grab hold of two empty wine glasses.

His eyes never left from you as you made your way back towards him on the couch. The cushions sank in deeper as you plopped down next to him, setting the glasses gently onto the low coffee table in front of you.

Matt grabbed the bottle of wine from your hand, twisting off the tight cap with ease. It was a simple gesture really and you mentally cursed yourself for getting so worked up by it, but you found it endearing.

“Excited, huh?” He joked, feeling your aura practically bouncing off of you as you watched the red liquid pour into the shape of the cup.

“Just happy.” You say, catching a glimpse into his sensual gaze before shyly looking away.

There was no way in hell that you expected Matt to keep his lecherous thoughts and curious hands to himself tonight, especially with alcohol now being thrown into the mix.

It was going to be torturous for him to stay on his best behavior.

*ೃ༄

About half an hour had passed and the two of you nearly drank the entire bottle, both of you now having nearly two full glasses of wine in your systems.

Matt quickly learned that you became a little giggle box the moment you started feeling a bit tipsy. He thought it was the cutest thing and made it a point to continue speaking so that he could hear your voice over and over again.

You sat up on the couch with your knees up to your chest, your fingers still slipped underneath the roundness of the glass. Matt had called it quits just a few minutes ago, his empty cup now sitting on the coffee table.

He could give a fuck less about the alcohol anymore, all he wanted now was a taste of you. He slumped down into the couch, much more relaxed now that the wine soaked its way through his system.

His hair was a fluffy mess now that his hat was finally off. He stared at you intensely with lazy, hooded eyes, grinning ear to ear seeing that you were so happy with just his presence.

“Okay, my turn.” You hiccup, finally setting your cup down for the first time tonight.

“Shoot.” He replies nonchalantly.

You adjusted your seating to where you were little bit closer to him this time. Your legs folding together as you place your jittery hands in your lap, “Why do you call me peach?”

“Uhh.” He huffed out with a bashful smile, his palms coming up to his face as if to rub away the embarrassment he felt. “It’s a long story.”

“I got plenty of time.” You reply, playfully tapping his shoulder. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Remember when we first met last year?” Matt asks, finally drawing his hands away from his face to look you in the eyes again. You nod. “Well, I remember you were in your backyard and you were taking care of your garden. …

…I was like, ‘damn, that lady has a ton of plants’, but I was just so intrigued by you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. …

…Anyway, you didn’t notice me looking your way until you started watering your little peach tree. You looked up at me and smiled, then you started talking my ear off about peaches. Now every time I see one, I think of you. So I just started calling you that.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, you never realized that there was a deeper meaning behind the little pet name all this time. You had actually assumed it was for another reason entirely.

“Ohh.” You say in realization, bringing your fingers up to to your flustered face. “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Because of what I said?” He asked, his brows knitting together.

“No.” You laugh. “I thought you called me that because of something else.”

“Why did you think I called you that?” He questioned, a curious smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Because of my butt.” You reply rather bluntly. “That’s why John got so upset when he found out that you were calling me that. He thought you were checking me out.”

“Firstly, John’s an idiot.” Matt slurred out, earning yet another giggle from you. “And second, yeah, I do.”

“Do what?” You ask, your brows furrowing together in slight confusion.

“Check you out.” Matt admitted with a shrug, “You have a nice ass. Nice and round, just like a peach.”

Although the alcohol was running its course through him, he was still in somewhat control of what slipped out of his mouth. The only difference was that his sober mind would have preferred to keep that last bit of information private, in fear of making you feel uncomfortable.

But, you had felt the exact opposite. You had found his slurred, drunken speech flattering. You nervously shifted your weight between the cushions, trying your best to contain this giddy feeling that bubbled up inside you.

Your eyes shot up to look at him as he cleared his throat, hoping that he didn’t accidentally step over any boundaries.

“My turn.” He finally spoke in a raspy voice, ready to change the subject.

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you ever wear your ring?” He asks.

“Well,” You began, drawing in a breath. “That’s another long story.”

“I’ve got time.” He grinned, mocking your previous tone, to which you sarcastically laugh.

“It’s about you, actually.” You reply, hoping that would drive him away from the conversation but it only intrigued him more.

“Now I gotta know, c’mon spit it out.” He chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” You giggled nervously, “We had gotten into a really heated argument a few weeks back…”

All of a sudden a heavy lump started to form in your throat and you could feel warm tears starting to prick their way through the corners of your eyes. No way, you were about to cry in front of Matt.

You raised your hand up to your face, quickly wiping away any forming tears before they had the chance to roll down your flushed cheeks. He took your shaky hand in his and gently started to stroke the top of your skin with his thumb. You took a deep inhale before telling him more.

“I won’t go too much into detail about it, but basically he told me… that I should stop talking to you… because it was obvious that you were just trying to use me.” You choked out, as memories of that night began rushing in.

You saw Matt’s brows furrow together, his face scrunching up in protest. His lips parted slightly to give you a response but he could tell that there was more and let you speak.

“He also said that even if you did… you know… you would regret it soon after because I’m older than you. And that you probably weren’t into that sort of thing.” You mumbled.

“That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” He blurted out.

“Which part?” You sniffled.

“All of it.” He replied. The cushions underneath the two of you shifted as Matt adjusted his weight between them. He sat up straight now, both of your hands resting in the gentle grasp of his much larger ones.

“Peach, you’re the most kind and generous woman I know, you make my day better whenever I see you. You’re beautiful inside and out, and I hate that you let him stomp all over you like that.” He continued, most of his words were a blur as they sloshed together.

You suppressed a laugh as you caught a whiff of the fruity alcoholic scent that still lingered on his breath, he was drunk as hell.

But you didn’t care, the way he held you close and how his eyes locked so intensely with yours made up for it. He was babbling on and on about how shitty of a husband John was, yet your focus was set right on his lips— the most taunting of pink. You couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel pressing tender kisses into your skin. You want to feel his lips on yours, you needed to know what that felt like.

However, you were soon pulled out of your sinful thoughts once you felt the warmth of his hands vanish. You watched him throw them up in disbelief as he continued on, “I wouldn’t even be surprised if… nevermind.”

“What?” You question, “Go on, say it.”

“Nothing, peach. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged off, growing embarrassed as he realized just how carried away he had gotten.

“C’mon, Matt.” You whine, your palm falling on top of his thigh. The sudden contact had caught him off guard and you could feel the muscles in his leg tense up below you. His eyes shot up to your glassy ones, hoping that he wasn’t the only one who felt a burning desire brewing inside of him. “Please.”

You could feel him relax a bit once he drew in a sharp inhale, thinking of what exactly he should say next without coming across as too vulgar.

“Does he even..” Matt began, being sure to choose his words carefully. “Does he even please you? Like, really satisfy your needs?”

“Like… sexually?” You muttered, being sure to get the clarification out of the way to make sure that you weren’t misinterpreting his words.

“Yeah,” He replied, his speech started to slur again as he mumbled, “Since he wants to keep my name in his mouth. I’d show you that an old man can’t do your body like I can.”

Matt was rambling again. If he hadn’t stepped over any boundaries before then he most definitely has now. You pulled your palm away from him, resting both of your hands back down in your lap. Shit, he was sure he had fucked this up now.

“Sorry.. I’m just really drunk right now.” He groaned. “You don’t have to answer tha-”

“No.” You interrupt, catching him by surprise. “He doesn’t.”

“Are you serious?” He replied, his brows raising up in shock. You nodded, to which he laughs in disbelief, not even knowing what he should say next.

“You want me to show you?” Matt spoke, his suggestive words came tumbling out as if he had them stored in his mind the moment he walked through your front door.

“Show me what?” You ask, slightly confused by his offer.

“What real pleasure feels like.” He coaxed, “How good sex can feel when it’s with the right person.”

Butterflies fluttered all through your stomach and your mouth went dry, bringing your shy gaze up to his primal look. His eyes spoke for himself, you could feel the desire radiating off of him and the feeling was overwhelmingly mutual.

Your fingers wrapped around his arm as you shifted over, as if there was some magnetic pull that tempted you to get even closer to Matt. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, the tips of your noses grazing against each other’s ever so slightly.

You brought your stare back up to his, feeling tingles trickle down your spine before whispering, “My age doesn’t bother you? You really don’t mind that you’re younger?”

“Of course not.” He coaxed. “I’m a young man, but my dick’s grown up.”

“Yeah?” You reply, inching your lips dangerously close to his. He nodded, “Then prove it.”

The elastic band of the arising sexual tension had finally snapped the moment he smashed his lips into yours. Wasting no time at all as he kissed away at you as if you were to slip away from his hands.

But you wouldn’t dare, you hadn’t felt this eagerness—such passion—from a man in what felt like ages. You were like a dry savanna awaiting for the smallest droplet of water.

You could feel the lust radiating from him as he made sure to show it in every action. That’s when you had finally realized just how long he has desired to have you in his grasp.

It was exhilarating.

You melted into his soothing touch, feeling safe and content in his arms. The soft pads of his fingertips slid up past the hem of your top, his warm palms resting right at the dips in your waist. He was testing the waters, seeing how far you would allow him to go. He’d be lying if he still wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of taking this “too far”.

But it was much too late for that now.

You craved Matt in all the ways imaginable.

One your hands dropped down lower, your delicate fingers grazing along the rough material of his jeans. You eased your palm down, pressing gently against his thigh. You could feel the muscles in his leg beginning to tense up once again.

You pulled a low groan from the brunette as your curious hand inched up closer and closer towards his groin—agonizingly slow.

By his body language and constant noises you could only assume that Matt wasn’t the type to enjoy being teased. But the way he squirmed underneath your touch had only encouraged you to want to do more.

You made sure to swallow each little plea that slipped out from him. Your palm now glued to the growing, aching erection in his pants.

There was nothing left to focus on, no distractions or obstacles standing in your way to keep the two of you apart. You had finally managed to have him all to yourself.

Matt was unbearably hard now. His fingers dug into your skin as he shamelessly started grinding himself against your hand. He knew without a doubt that if you kept this up, he’d have an embarrassing spill that he would never be able to live down.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the living room grew stuffy and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Your bodies were ablaze and your clothes felt restricting against your flesh.

The warmth of his hands disappeared as they slipped out from underneath your shirt. His fingers came to the surface of your top, pinching at the soft fabric of the hem before finally pulling away from your luscious lips.

“Is this okay?” He whispers in a husky breath.

“Yes,” You reply with a huff, “Take it off, please.”

Your top was gone in an instant as Matt eagerly slipped it over your head and tossed it onto the plush rug lying on the floor. His lips curled up into a flustered grin, taken by surprise at the lacy, black bra that squeezed tightly around your breasts.

He would have never guessed that you were wearing such scandalous lingerie underneath your oversized tee. Now having the knowledge that you were wearing it during the entirety of the conversation had his dick twitching in his pants.

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on your baggy sweats to reveal the answer to his burning question: if you had matching panties on underneath.

“You wore this just for me, peach?” Matt whispered, leaving you shuddering as the warmth of his palms traveled up past your ribcage. The delicate material of the lace intertwined between his fingers as he cupped both your tits in his hands.

“I want to take my time with you,” He begins with a muttering tone. His dark strands of hair brushed against your chest as he brought himself down lower, “But you’re making it really hard for me… makes me want to tear your clothes right off.”

You whine at his lewd choice of words, combing your fingers through his scalp. You pulled your bottom lip behind your teeth as Matt pressed sloppy, tender kisses against the swelling tops of your breasts.

You squirmed with each kiss that he gave you, his lips sinking down into your warm, plush skin. He continued fondling them in his hands, being sure to stay a man of his word and take things slow.

Although there was a voice in the back of his mind that screeched at him to claw away at the rest of your clothes he chose to ignore it. You were special to him, he wanted to cherish and savor this moment. And he wanted to be sure that you were aware of that.

His glossy eyes flickered up at you, adoring your rosy cheeks and hooded gaze. He pulled yet another whine from you as he flattened his tongue against your chest, licking a stripe up from your exposed cleavage and stopping right at the most sensitive bit on the side of your neck.

He left a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat before pulling away and giving your lips the same attention.

His large hands slithered back down to squeeze at your waist. This kiss was far more hungry, more desperate than before. A heated mess between slippery tongues and clashing teeth.

Even though you admired and appreciated him for taking things slow, you couldn’t take it anymore. There was a burning, itching desire brewing up inside of you that only Matt could satisfy.

Deep down you knew it was awful. You should be ashamed by the way you latched yourself onto your neighbor the moment after finding out that your husband wouldn’t be home. But being with Matt now just felt so right—and so terribly good.

Your hand dropped back down to his lap. Only this time, your hand went straight for his belt instead of the very obvious tent that protruded out from his pants.

Your brows furrowed together, letting out a strangled moan. Growing frustrated as your fingers unsuccessfully fumbled around with the silver buckle of his belt.

You could feel him smile against your lips, amused at how desperate you were to get him out of his pants. He finally pulled away from you, letting go of your hips and brought his hands down to meet yours.

The buckle clinked as he easily unlatched it, you watched as he yanked the leather belt through each tiny loop that was placed around the waist of his jeans.

You glanced down as it hit the floor, joining your shirt. It felt like Matt’s movements were excruciatingly slow, you began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.

Your heart raced against your chest as he finally plucked the silver button out of the slit and slowly began sliding down the zipper—the satisfying noise ringing in your ears as he did so.

He tugged both layers of his clothes just low enough for his cock to spring out. Your eyes quickly fixated on him, widening at the sight.

He was much thicker than you had imagined, longer too. His tip matched the faint rosy hue that spread across his cheeks, twitching just the slightest as the cool air conditioning spewed throughout the room.

You shift nervously against the couch, your breath hitching in your throat as you notice the thick vein that ran along the side of him.

Matt’s eyes flickered up to your meek expression, chuckling lightly as he spoke, “Getting shy on me now?”

Before your lips could part to give him a proper response, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, slowly guiding your hand down to his dick. A low groan seeped out from him as he felt your delicate touch wrap around him so sweetly.

“It’s not that..” You finally reply, running your hand up his length with a weak, timid fist.

“What is it then?” Matt asked, meeting your eyes.

“You’re just…” You began to say, only to quickly avert your eyes away from him, “…much bigger than what I thought you were.”

“What you thought or what you’re used to?” Matt teased. A flustered expression took over your face as you squeezed around his base at his snarky remark towards your husband. “Sorry, sorry.” He joked.

You loosened your grip around him, bringing your eyes over to his. The same smile still spread from ear to ear, “Mhm. I suppose you were right about what you said earlier, then.”

Your sweet, buttery tone ran all throughout his nerves. You could feel his muscles loosening, finally allowing himself to melt into your touch as you slowly started pumping him. Only for you bring your movements to a halt just mere seconds later.

He watched you with lazy eyes as your knees spread apart, getting into a more comfortable position before lowering your head down towards his lap. Your lips now dangerously close to his aching tip.

You could feel your ears growing hot as Matt never took his stare away from you. Although the view wasn’t all that he imagined it would be, since the majority of your hair swept right in front of what he wished to see the most—your face.

He let out a low huff, bringing his shaky hand down towards your head. His thick fingers looped underneath your dangling strands of hair and gently brushed them out of the way by tucking it behind your ear. You glanced up at him with doe-like eyes and flushed cheeks as you spat out a generous amount of saliva onto his tip.

His nose scrunched up and his nostrils flared out, watching your eyes drop back down to what was in front of you. Clear, tiny bubbles trickled down his member, pooling up around his base. Your hand still slowly pumping him like before, making sure to get him nice and saturated before finally taking him into your mouth.

“Fuck.” Matt cursed under his breath, sinking down into the soft cushions.

His brows knitted together as his teeth drew back on his bottom lip, watching as you took him in as deep as you could. You could feel him tense up below you as he felt your tongue slither against him, slowly bobbing your head up and down. Your lips wrapped around him so perfectly and the warmth of your mouth had his fingers clawing into the armrest of the couch.

“So pretty, baby, so fucking pretty.” He mumbles in a drunken slur, his sugary words encouraging you to slightly quicken your movements.

Your back arched at the slightest, the imprint of your spine dipping down as your ass hiked up in the air. Your eyes fluttered closed, palming the rest of him that you couldn’t fit down your throat.

Matt could feel his pulse pounding into his ears, taken away by all the pleasure. Goosebumps raised up from your skin, feeling his fingertips stroke their way up and down you back in an almost loving manner.

It took everything in him to not thrust himself up into your mouth, desperate to know what it would sound and look like for you to gag around his cock.

But if he were being honest with himself, there was no way he was going to be able to last a second longer with the way you were moving.

His heavy breathing becoming more rapid and his noises came tumbling out. You could feel his veins throbbing against your tongue as you continued—he was awfully close.

“Shit… h-hold on..” Matt whined, the hand that was once on your back now tugging you up by the hair, gently pulling your mouth away.

You peered up at him with glossy eyes, a thin trail of saliva connecting your swollen lips down towards his dick.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled timidly, wiping away the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand, “Should we stop?”

“God no,” Matt huffed out with a smirk, “I was just wondering if you would be more comfortable on the bed instead?”

“Oh,” You reply, sitting up straight now. You pondered his offer for a moment before agreeing with a nod.

“Yeah?” Matt whispers, a grin starting to grow on his face to which you nod again with a smile of your own. His fingers dug into the couch, looping under you as he lifted you up with ease and carried you towards the bedroom.

*ೃ༄

“Fuck, Matt..” You whine, “..don’t stop.”

Both of your clothes were scattered along the floor in a matter of seconds, not even bothering to shut the bedroom door in the process.

The soft amber light from the lamp gave your nude bodies a golden, angelic-like hue as you were both entangled between your silky bedsheets.

Matt’s large hands were wrapped around both of your thighs, spreading them apart so that his face nestled right where you had craved him the most. His tongue moved in a sensual rhythm, sucking and swirling against your swollen clit.

The alcohol still lingering in his system gave him the courage to peer up at you, his primal stare admiring your flustered face that was twisted up in pleasure. A sense of pride washed over him, feeling proud of himself—and rather cocky—knowing that he was able to make you feel this good while you husband was out doing god knows what.

Your trembling hands made their way towards him, nestling your fingers into his dark, wavy strands. He finally dropped his intimidating gaze, groaning against your core as you tugged away at his hair.

Various moans and cries fell from your lips. Your grip against his scalp subtly grew tighter, but he didn’t mind, in fact it only turned him on more. Your entire body squirmed in his hands, back arching up from the mattress as the elastic band in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment.

Your legs began trembling and your toes curled in against your soles. Your voice now much higher than it was before as you warned him of your arising orgasm.

It wasn’t long before you had released into his mouth, his rough stubble brushing against your inner thighs as they squeezed around his face. Leaving Matt’s cheeks a faint flushed pink, his ears grew hotter by the second as he peered up at you again.

Once you had caught your breath, your legs weakly fell open, allowing him enough space to stay between them as he crawled up towards you. His hands rested on either side of your face as he pressed a few lazy kisses against your lips. You whimpered against him when you felt his tip accidentally brush against your slick folds.

He caught onto your whiny hint, chuckling slightly as his dominate hand slid down between your bodies. His thick fingers wrapped around the base, aligning himself with your entrance before slowly pushing himself inside of you.

Your brows furrowed together as he wrapped his arms around you. A spew of broken moans slipped out from you as he began slowly thrusting into you. Your palms flattened against his back as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, pressing even more kisses down your throat.

His low groans and soft whines filled your ears as kept the same sensual pace. Your thighs shook with each movement he made before you finally decided to wrap your legs around his waist.

The combination between that subtle action and the sweet sound of your voice ringing in his ears was slowly becoming too much for him to bare. His orgasm already creeping up on him.

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, now lazily ramming his hips down into yours at a sloppy speed. His forehead pressed against yours as his eyes locked into your glossy ones.

He smirked knowing that he was the cause of you feeling this way, that he could fuck you better than your own pathetic husband.

“You’re squeezing around so me so tight, baby. Gonna cum for me already?” Matt breathed out cockily through his quick movements, your nails clawing down his back.

He watched as you struggled to form a coherent sentence before dropping his hand down lower. The pad of his thumb pressing against your puffy clit as he cooed, “I know, c’mon and let it out sweet girl.. you’ve earned it.”

“Oh, Matt.. fuck!” You cried out shortly after, your back arching from the bed. You trembled beneath him as you came for the second time tonight.

Your legs remained low around his waist, assisting him with his messy, drunken movements. His lips pressed down into yours, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your swollen lips.

Your nails dug into his back and your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his warm cum gushing out and spilling into you. Your legs tightened around his waist, gently pushing him further into your core, filling you up to the brim with his seed.

📃 — taglist!

@bluesturniolo333 , @hoesformatt , @mattgirly , @stellarsturns , @mrssturnioloo , @sturniozo , @littlebookworm803 , @only4mattyb , @liz-stxrn , @strawberrysturniolo , @mangoposts , @enyaslover , @1horrormoviewhore1 , @whatever1021 , @mattslolita , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniolopowers , @hercigaretteblush , @lovingmattysposts , @stardustmf444 , @lovesturns , @gigisworldsstuff , @crispylouis28 , @that-general-simp , @lustfulslxt , @ifilwtmfc , @chrislapdog , @sstvrnioloo , @angelic-sturniolos111 , @sturniolosreads , @gamermattsgf , @luvmxtt , @kayannettesposts , @sophssturn , @isabellehoran , @sturnfix , @luvmila444 , @luhsexcbihh , @kvtie444

Navigation! ‧₊˚🥂✩ ₊

#luv4kozume #🌺 — triple threat event!#luv4kozume moots #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #sturniolos #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

627 notes · View notes

oftidheard · 5 months

Note

hmmm an idea could be a coryo x reader where he’s readers mentor (just like he was with lucy gray) and he gradually loses his shit cuz he’s worried for reader lmaoo

i really enjoyed writing this and exploring the differences in how coryo sees the reader and really just anything/anyone else ♡ general warning for him being typically nasty + references to death

❄ where i told you to run ㅤ⠀coriolanus snow x reader ㅤ⠀↳ 1.3k ↳ angst ↳ gender neutral

coriolanus is sat in one of the chairs provided for the mentors in front of the array of screens, displaying tribute's statuses alongside the hunger games broadcast, and he's convinced the seats were specifically designed to be as uncomfortable as possible.

it doesn't help that whenever the screen shows you, you appear to be dedicatedly searching the underground tunnels, without a single weapon in hand and not even bothering to look behind you once in a while in case someone might be following you; you're practically asking to be hunted down and killed.

he leans forward slightly as once again your image flashes on screen now showing you jogging through the tunnels, and grits his teeth. up until now, his emotionless façade has remained unwavering, appearing to anyone else in the room as though he's perfectly apathetic about your recklessness. but truly, he is anything but.

he remembers the night he saw you before the games, when he'd reiterated that as soon as the bell rung that you were to run as far away from any other tribute as you could, and to hide until absolutely necessary.

you'd commented a crisp, "wouldn't that make for boring television?" meant almost as a jest, but which had made coriolanus rethink everything he was doing for a moment. he didn't voice the realisation that he now found himself valuing your survival more than entertaining the capitol, but instead remained steadfast in repeating the instructions; making you swear to listen.

you'd hummed a — retrospectively noncommittal — "mhm," and whether it was tiredness overcoming him drawing him to not read to much into it, or the way you'd smiled saccharinely and reached through the bars for his hand in a moment that made him forget what he'd even come there for in the first place; he hadn't pushed beyond that, and instead indulged in your playful smile.

now, bitterly, he realises he should have been horribly annoying about reminding you what you needed to do to survive, if only for the possibility that you'd actually have listened.

one hand grips the table in front of him as he watches you barely trying to conceal your thundering footsteps in favour of speed, and turn corners without even stopping to check around the corner first.

unlike your own heavy breaths that just loudly contribute to the siren song bound to draw tributes far stronger than you right to you, coriolanus's breaths are stiff; not unlike the rest of his body as amongst the frustration and worry he frailly tries to remain at the very least outwardly calm.

his composition shatters, however, when out of all the things a tribute trapped in a death arena could possibly do; you start whistling.

the broadcast focuses on you again — your sudden performance the only remotely entertaining thing to happen since coral's pack gave up on lucy gray and jessup — and the room erupts in whispers as everyone watches you slow down to a walk once more.

coriolanus's reaction is less restrained, and the moment the first note of an eerily familiar song leaves your lips, he's pushing up from his seat and staring ice cold at the screen.

his thoughts are frozen in place, all stuck on one word; stop. you need to stop whistling right now, you need to turn and run back to where you'd been hiding earlier, and selfishly, coriolanus needs you to do all of this so you can survive.

even as you continue your song echoing through the tunnels, he forces himself to untense and keep up the illusion that he's perfectly okay with this — as well as playing along with everyone else, who seem marginally unimpressed by whatever it is you seem to be doing.

it only dawns on him when he's stepped back from the small table and readjusted himself with neat composure and tall posture, that he knows where he's heard this song before — and it takes everything in him to not scream his anger at the mentor of the little district eight girl.

you'd hummed the tune over and over again when you and the rest of the tributes had been locked in that cage, when wovey — coriolanus strains to remember the name of such an inconsequential little girl — had been sat near you. you'd noticed her fear, and though the two of you weren't district partners nor had likely ever spoken before, you beckoned the frightened girl to sit with you.

before one of coriolanus's visits, as he'd been approaching the dilapidated zoo, he'd heard your vocalising of the simple tune floating through the humid air, and neared the bars to find the sight of you hugging wovey close with a kind smile, as she joined in humming the tune with you.

it had been a conflicting moment for him, as he'd watch you good-naturedly comfort a girl who'd soon be your enemy, he'd found he couldn't look away from the captivating upturn of your lips and tender twinkle in your eyes. but wholeheartedly, he despised your friendliness with a fellow tribute, especially such a weak one, who could never be a worthwhile ally.

but you'd returned to comforting her after coriolanus left, and you'd told him you'd been humming all day and would do it 'till your voice was rough if it meant the girl's final moments were warm ones. he was drawn to the softness of your voice, but didn't hide that he was unimpressed with the empty compassion.

now, he turns his head to hilarius heavensbee — wovey's mentor — as if the boy would have half the mind to recognise the link between your whistled search and his own tribute. but he glares at his classmate across the room nonetheless, as if if he were to glower in the boy's direction for long enough, it might fix coriolanus's mountain of problems.

the blonde turns back to the large screen again when your search for wovey — coriolanus still scowls at the notion — has yet to prove fruitful, and you resort to whisper-shouting her name.

now, hilarius turns to coriolanus with confusion at his classmate's tribute calling his own tribute's name, but the latter simply ignores hilarius in favour of glaring at your figure still searching for the lost cause of a girl.

he wishes, now more than ever, that he could contact you in the arena, that he could tell you to be quiet and for goodness's sake stay alive. but all he can do is watch helplessly as your determination only grows stronger the longer it takes for you to find the girl you swore to yourself you'd protect.

the thought occurs to coriolanus at noticing your ever-furrowing brows that you might start to think wovey is dead, and give up. he prays you do, and hopes the girl actually dies for good; to cease being a burden on you.

but nothing in these games ever seem to go coriolanus's way, it seems, because when you turn your next corner, an echo snakes up from behind you, and brings a dissonant but undeniably similar call of the very same song you'd been calling out with.

waves of relief accompanied with vexation wash over him just as your own features brighten. he's relieved you will finally quieten down for your own safety, but is by no means thrilled for the extra weight that will now be dragging you down with another life in your hands.

coriolanus is about to ease back into his stiff chair now that you've run to near wovey's call and have stopped whistling in search, when the screens flash to another camera view.

the broadcast now displays coral, tanner, and mizzen waiting just around a corner you're bound to turn any moment now, as tanner mimics the tune of your song with his own deceptive whistling.

coriolanus pales and grows lightheaded in realisation; that you're walking right into a trap, and he cannot do a thing to help you.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #thg x reader #❤︎ — the mockingjay sings

700 notes · View notes

lulumilkshake · 9 months

Text

is drunk gojo the best gojo?

pairings: g. satoru x reader

a/n: ugh im finally writing again lol

warnings: suggestive, mentions of alcohol obviously, references of my previous writing that you can read here before hand if you like, also this is lowk not proofread lmaoo

gojo satoru who comes home at 2 am after an event at jujutsu high, drunk out of his mind. he was sooo bored since you didn’t go with him that he even decided to get drunk with nanami and shoko (gojo being the only drunk one in that situation).

getting drunk was better then entertaining elders, right? not for you!

“b-baby..!” you hear him slur out, causing you to shut off the tv and rush into the kitchen from the living room.

you let out a soft sigh, eye twitching slightly as you look at the ridiculously attractive man in front of you: who was now undressing.

“aaahhh there’s my..” he pauses for a second, cheeks slightly puffed out as he struggles with the button of his blue shirt.

“there’s my beautiful wife… c’mon let’s cuddle n.. fuck..” he says with a slight giggle at the end as he walks over to you, leaning in for a kiss and hug but stumbling on top of you in the process.

with gojo attached to your side, you walk over to the fridge, struggling with every step as you grab a bottle of water for him to drink.

“now whose idea was it to have you drink..?” you mumble to yourself when you catch his 6’3 figure as he trips, slightly struggling to hold him up while he makes kissy lips towards you, water spilling on you during the process.

gojo was a horrible drunk. he had no tolerance for alcohol, period. and if he did drink, one glass was enough to get him drunk.

for the most part, he would choose not to drink at all; hating the bitter taste, so you’re a bit surprised when he came home tonight: extremely intoxicated.

“it was sooo boring without you sugar.. i had nothing better to do! please don’t be mad at me..” you feel him slightly sniffle into your nape. if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was actually crying, but you’ve been through this with him before. he was also a very overdramatic drunk..

“okay you big baby.. let’s get you dressed and we can cuddle in bed, okay?” you reply with a soft tone of voice, giving into his antics and reassuring him sweetly.

“and fuck?” he asks with blue glossy puppy dog eyes, trying to seduce you as best as he could. he knew you were almost immune to them at this point though.

you roll your eyes slightly as you avert your gaze from him, feeling your face slightly get hot but not wanting to give in to his drunk self. “tomorrow.”

(the last time you had sex with him drunk he just dry humped you thinking he was inside of you.)

he sighs dramatically, lifting his head up from your neck as he fully pulls off his black sunglasses before putting on a large smile on his face, “i’ll take it!”

he chuckles like a loud hyena as he drunk-walks with you, slightly poking your cheek at every step you take. if it was possible for him to get any more obnoxious, it would be right now.

“you know just because i’m..” you groan out annoyed, holding most of his body weight on your shoulder as you try to propel him up the stairs, but he was too focused on poking and squeezing you. “..helping you up the stairs doesn’t mean your legs are paralyzed.”

he lets out another obnoxious laugh making you glare at him, as if you were waiting for a dumbass response.“you’re so sexy when you struggle thou-“

he’s cut off suddenly when you drop him on the stairs, making him cry out theatrically. you let out a little “oops!” in response causing him to wail in “pain”.

“it was a compliment! i could’ve died from that you know!” he whines out exaggerating his movements as he grabs at your ankles, squeezing them like he was begging for you to help him up.

“awh.. but you look so sexy when you struggle though!” you respond teasingly with a cute pout as you chuckle at his reaction, patting his head and cooing at him, his brows furrowing while he stares up at you. you get your little laugh in then slightly bend down to help pick him up from his spot on the stairs.

“yeah, i know.” he grumbles out with a sour tone of voice, as if he was testing the waters. you lightly loosen your grip on him causing him to have ptsd for a quick second, making him whine “no please” and “i’m sorry baby”.

at last, you finally manage to bring him up the stairs of your shared penthouse, releasing your grip on his shoulder and bicep, and letting out a soft sigh.

“and you’re lucky you’re hot..” he whispered silently, thinking only he could hear himself, but thanks to the alcohol senses are all erratic.

“what was that, hm? don’t forget you’re still in front of the staircase.” you spoke with a wicked tone of voice, making the strongest feel the weakest under your intense motherly stare.

“y-yes ma’am.. sorry..” he stares down at the floor ashamed, as he reluctantly avoids your gaze. you were doing your best to take care of him and maybe he was taking advantage of the situation.

you let out another exhausted sigh, pressing your chest against his bicep, and pulling him to the bedroom. laying back on the bed, you emit a soft moan; feeling the soft warmth of the white comforter on your skin. (gojo wants this to be a porno scene so bad btw)

“you temptin’ me?” he questions with a slight drunk cocky smirk, leaning over to whisper in your ear. he slightly unbuckles his belt on his black slacks with one hand, staring down at you with hungry eyes as the other hand goes to cup your cheek. you were surprised he actually managed to get his pants off this time!

“s-satoru.. it’s too late baby..” you mumble out, your words coming out more as a moan since you find yourself melting into his touch. he lightly kisses at your neck, making you whine at every touch of your body he makes.

while kissing him back passionately, you taste a mixture of alcohol and sugar on his tongue. every slight pant of his name just urged him to continue even more. he slid his hands through your shirt; cupping your breasts with his warm hands causing you to moan softly.

he lifts up your shirt fully and latches the bud of your nipple into his mouth as he cups your cunt through your shorts. you were gripping at his snow-white hair, pleasure filling your veins, before you hear soft snores fill your ears.

wait.

“oh my god.” you gasp under your breath at the sight, snorting loudly as you look at him fully passed out on your chest. he still had your nipple latched in his mouth, hand still cupped on your shorts as he’s fully fast asleep. the view itself.. was honestly better then sex..

seeing this sight.. no, being able to make fun of him with this sight, is the best thing you could ever ask for.

you smile devilishly as you grab your phone through your pocket, opening your camera. you snapped the photo of the blessed sight, thinking of ways you were gonna make fun of him for it in the morning..

“oh you’re in for a long ride tomorrow pretty boy.. the hangover isn’t gonna be the only thing hurtin..”

bonus! (references of my last writing read here if you don’t understand!)

“ughh baby… my hangover is killing me here!” your overly dramatic husband groans out as he hugs against your body, rubbing his head against your plush chest as a stress reliever.

“mm.. it’s what you get for trying to have a “drinking challenge” with shoko and nanami of all people.” you hum slightly as you play with his hair, scratching his undercut just how he likes it.

gojo nods contently in response before looking back at you with a slight confused expression, “how’d you find out? shoko told you? snitch.. she always tries to make me look so uncool..”

your lips curve into a slight smile as you giggle sweetly at the slight slur of shoko’s name. “oh honey.. i already saw the most uncool side of you last night anyways.”

“eh?” he tilts his head with a dumbfound expression as he watches you shut off your phone, staring up to realize you have an extremely evil smile on your face, one that makes him tremble in fear.

as the click of you opening your phone catches his attention, he gapes at the sight of your wallpaper. the photo you took of him last night.. with your nip-

“what the fuck is that?” his eyes widen as his tone is stern while he stares at the wallpaper dumbfounded, then back at you. he tries to grab the phone from your grasp friskily, his ego crushing more and more at every movement. “delete that right now.”

you let out a loud snicker as you move the phone around his hands so he can’t grasp it easily. before you could speak again he pins you against the bed, your hands above your head.

“i’m not deleting it unless you delete that whipped cream photo. that was payback, pervert.” you stick your tongue out at him while you stare at his playful annoyed facial expression.

“no way! that whipped cream photo was a rare gem. besides, it’s my number one go-to photo when i jerk off during overseas miss-“ he’s cut off once more, letting you flip him over so your now on top of him as you cover his mouth with your palm.

“that’s why I’m not deleting my rare gem either! how often is the strongest sooo vulnerable towards me that he’d pass out on top of me with my nipple in his-“

“don’t you dare finish that sentence.” he cuts you off as his brows furrow deeper, making you cackle in his palm.

“i could sue you for taking a photo of me unconsensually by the way!” oh he was a big fat hypocrite.

“..so could i, satoru..” you mutter out slightly tilting your head at his stupidly cute words.

“oh. yeah.”

he puts a hand on his chin stroking it for a long second as you get off of on top of him and plop down next to him, staring at him lovingly as you both start laughing with each other. it was dumb moments like this that really made you realize that you both loved each other so much, and would do anything for each other. you both were just two idiots in love.

…

“i’m still not deleting the whipped cream photo.”

…

“and i’m still not deleting my submissive drunk satoru photo.”

gojo groans out as he pulls you on top of him again, the sexual tension that has been filling the room from the start finally breaking.

“we should end arguments fucking more often.. y’know?” he pants out as he breaks the kiss with another stupid comment causing you to kiss him back for more, eagerly.

“don’t ruin the moment, again.”

a/n: sorry ive literally been sooo lazy to write but season 2 got me a lil bit more excited lol! hope u enjoyed this 💕💕

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #gojo imagines #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satorugojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo headcanons

1K notes · View notes