#‘people are gonna think you’re a BOY >:(‘ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

godjustkys · 2 days ago

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oh my god dude you're gonna LOVE newt hes so insanely cute.. thinking abt childhood best friends to lovers with him and learning how to navigate a relationship and then sex... both reader and newt nervously stumbling over eachother in bed trying to figure out what feels good for eachother.. getting to fuck him nice and slow while he tries not to ramble and bring up random creature-related stuff he thinks of.. kissing his freckles and checking in every 2 seconds because!!! hes so!!! ANYWAYS i feel you probably get it by now but have fun watching the movies.. they're so fire

SYPNOSIS: gentle (clumsy) sex with your nerdy boyfriend

CHARACTER: male reader x newt scamander

NOTE: for the life of me, i swear i couldn’t figure out how the fuck to write reader awkward. I TRIED.

p.s. requests are always open!!

WC: 1.3k

WARNING: both reader and newt are awkward as hell,, soft, gentle sex,, worried!reader,, fingering,, spit as lube,,

you had known newt scamander since the two of you were small boys sneaking dragon-scale beetle wings into potions class and pretending you weren’t secretly terrified of boggarts. hogwarts had come and gone, and though most people drifted apart, you and newt never did. maybe it was the way he talked about creatures like they were people. or maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were one of a kind.

even after the war, after the travels and letters and long silences that weren’t really silence at all.. you found your way back to each other.

you had known him forever. but kissing him for the first time on a rainy tuesday, both of you shivering in soaked coats and awkward laughter, that was new. Being in love with him — that was new.

newt’s back hit the mattress with a soft whumph, curls haloed around his head, lips pink and already kiss-bruised. his vest had been tossed somewhere in the corner, his shirt hanging open, and chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted through a storm. you slowly kissed down his jaw, his throat, his collarbone; pausing at every freckle like you had all the time in the world to learn him by heart. “i feel like my mind’s going to split in half,” he whispered, voice thin and wavering. “I keep thinking about— about— bloody mooncalves and whether this is normal for—” you smiled against his chest. “you can talk about mooncalves later.” newt let out a helpless sort of laugh that turned into a shaky gasp when your hand slid down his chest, fingers grazing the trail of hair below his navel. his thighs tensed, and you paused again, looking up to meet his eyes. “you, uh, okay?”

“yes- yes, mhm.” he got out, blinking excessively as he stared at you. it didn’t take long for you to strip him, and yourself, so now here he laid beneath you, in all his glory. when you finally touched newt, fully, his hips jerked like he’d been struck with lightning, head tipping back into the pillow. he was already so hard, leaking at the tip, and the warmth of your hand coaxing him into a slow rhythm had him trembling. your name spilled from his lips and for the first time ever, you felt like your name was holy. the way he sounded lit a fire within you, and he just kept spurring you on, feeding that flame. you stroked him slowly, lazily, still unsure if he liked it, but it was just enough to keep him gasping, flushed and twitching under you. “feel good?” you muttered softly, a small bit of anxiety washing over you as you waited for the answer. “uh-huh, uh-huh—” newt rambled out, his fingers clenching in the sheets. then you decided to experiment, pressing your thumb to the slit of his cock, and he made a sound that was practically a whimper, one hand flying to cover his mouth.

“you’re— ah— very good at that,” he breathed. you let out a small, appreciative chuckle, kissing the crease where his hip met thigh. “you make it.. easy.” by the time you slicked your fingers, newt was so worked up he was trembling, continuing to grab at the sheets like he was about to fall off the edge of the world. easing a finger in, he gasped soundlessly, thighs tensing. he felt as if the silence was stifling, so his eyes darted to the side. “i’ve uhm- read a few things,” he muttered, ears going red. “some diagrams. diagrams are very helpful.” you smiled, nuzzling under his jaw. “i’d rather explore the subject.. hands-on.” he made a sound, half laugh, half gasp when your lips pressed to the soft spot under his ear. “oh..” newt just muttered, staring at the ceiling wide eyed. you started thrusting your finger in and out, slowly, letting him adjust. he did his best to keep his breath even, focusing so hard that he almost started dissociating.

when you eased another finger in to prep him properly (you didn’t really know what you were doing, you were too worried), he made a panicked little noise like he had just startled a hippogriff. you curled your fingers, experimentally once again, watching newt’s face intently. “OH— I— I— fuck,” he squeaked, voice cracking. “merlin, don’t stop— please— i’ll name a niffler after you—” your eyes lit up at his tone. so that felt good. curling your fingers again, newt mewled helplessly, arching his back when you added a third one. “oh bugger,” he gasped. “it’s a bit- bit strange— like, ah, being filled..? i don’t think that makes any sense, i’m sorry—”

after a bit more prepping, you slowly lined the tip of your cock to newt’s hole. you didn’t push in, just looked at him. “you- you’re ready, right? you sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, fingers just brushing against the inside of his wrist. he nodded quickly, a little too fast. “yes— yes, I just— er— this is rather uncharted territory for me.” you smiled softly in response, keeping your composure. “for me too.” when you pressed in and pushed your cock half way in, newt was writhing, and rambling. “did you know— uhm, some nifflers purr when you stroke just under their ears?” he said, breath hitching when you kissed the spot below his jaw. “i’ll make sure to keep that in mind.” you breathed out, sinking in the rest of the way, both of you gasping like you were coming apart at the seams.

he was so tight, his gummy walls sucking you in, clenching around you tightly, his breath catching in his throat, mouth open but silent. you froze. “okay?” you asked, barely holding on. “mhm,” he hummed lowly, face scrunched up. “just— slow..” you kissed his lips as you started to move, keeping the rhythm unhurried, every thrust deep and smooth. newt clung to you, legs wrapped around your waist, hips shifting to meet you every time you sank back into him. and god, he felt so good. every little gasp, every moan, every time he said your name like he couldn’t believe this was real. you kissed along his jaw, whispered how good he felt, how beautiful he looked like this. you kept rolling your hips, slow and deep, dragging yourself out and pressing back in again until newt was shaking, his words tumbling out in a mess of half-formed thoughts. “this is— better than mating dances— those are very involved, some creatures take hours to— ah..— don’t laugh, I’m trying to stay— haah!— intellectual about— oh bloody hell, right there..” you captured his lips in a sloppy yet tender kiss, your thrusts steady, slow, filling him again and again until all he could do was gasp and moan, fingers digging into your back. he huffed softly, chest heaving, clearly trying not to preen. “suppose some creatures present similarly when breeding... fire-crabs, for example, often arch their backs and— nghhgg!—” newt cut himself off. at first you thought something was wrong. “newt? too much?” you murmured softly. “there— hell- again, again.” he urged you in a desperate tone, clutching you closer. your cock prodded at his prostate again and he was blissed out. a couple moments later of that same deep, steady rhythm, he came untouched, crying out your name, his cock spilling between your stomachs, body clenching so tightly around you that it dragged your orgasm out of you too — deep, hot, spilling inside him as you groaned his name into his mouth. you collapsed over him, panting, bodies slick with sweat, completely tangled. “that was—” he began, voice hoarse. “astounding,” you finished for him, brushing sweaty curls off his forehead.

“i.. was going to say impossibly filthy, but yes. that too.”

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 days ago

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Oh, Wayne this made my day! Brief aside, I will be getting caught up on Time After Time this weekend after a busy one last. I got some nice girthy parts to enjoy! 😂

Omg I love the Cujo nickname and you found the sweetest little gif of Mr. King! Owen is not only a true narcissistic asshole, he's just a weeeeeee bit off in general. Like no wonder your daddy didn't trust you with the business ya little psycho.

And God, I’m melting here with Russell, the killing machine, taking charge and taking care of her. He’s soft for *us* 🫠❤️‍🔥 Michelle, you’re making me question my morals and they weren’t that high to begin with 😂

If you like this vibe, you're gonna LOVE the eventually Colter x reader series I do 😂

But Russell is soooo annoying here. Like, just help us with the murder, babe. If we wanted you to commit it for us, we would have asked like a big girl.

Awww, he really does like her 🥰 The fact he’s willingly staying in a house with another person says a lot lol

I think Colter at first just saw her as another person to help but grew to enjoy her company and that turned into a friendship, especially when they were both in this weird, angry place with Russell.

They have known each other for only a short amount of time. They’ve already shared more with each other than people during the first ten dates lol

This was definitely my "Speed" movie moment of yeah, you have intense chemistry and been through some intense stuff but y'all gotta sloooow down. They knew each other a handful of days and these are two highly independent people who are used to doing things their own way. I really wanted to throw in that adult moment of let's take a beat, hear each other out and go forward from there.

I have that song constantly in my head anyways!!! Can you not?! Russell’s Swifite is showing again 🤣

Ngl, The Tortured Poets Society played on repeat A LOT during writing on this one 😂 He's My Man actually comes from "I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)" as a little play on how Russell doesn't fit with normal people but perhaps with the reader, she could be that person that clicks with him.

I know you've read the books as well (I still need to read the fourth and am so excited there's a fifth coming out soon!) so I extra love your insights! I actually wrote this after only reading book 1 but somewhere in my gut I just knew Russell had a ragtag group of hardcore friends he could go commit atrocities with and they'd be game 😂

God, I’m fucking loving this dynamic so much!!! I’m a sucker for a brutal interrogation 😍😍😍 (Again, yes, I know the mental help. Will get on it soon… -ish)

Nah, we love that energy around here. See Exhibit A, my lovely little serial killer!Dean x reader story (and series) 😂 Owen honestly got off easy for how fucked up he was.

Aww, I’m so happy they made up too and are getting closer 🥰 The most frustrating part of the show is still how they brushed off Russell’s hurt over being accused of murder for twenty years by his own brother lol. I always loved that honest chat they had in the books about it 🤓

While I love how the show gives Russell a little more nuance and makes him this nerdy, fun foodie, they really gloss over that fact. Especially when they get together in Season 2 and it's like nothing ever happened. That scene in the books is one of my favorites and does a very good job of showing that kind, sensitive side to these boys that the show misses out on sometimes. Like especially how that book ends. Gah, it tugs on my heartstrings.

Aaah, loved this little tidbit about Dory!!! 👏👏 I can’t remember if they ever mentioned it on the show as well or if Dory actually lived on the compound till the end 🤔 (Still wild book!Dory has a wholeass husband and kids and goddamn escape plans set in place lol)

I think show Dory went with the aunt and uncle as well? I think? I'd love to see more of show Dory and see if she's like book Dory cause damn, that girl is just living her normal ass life until her brothers call. Then it's all go bags and super spy crap and it all happens OFF PAGE. 😂

I've loved seeing your thoughts on this series! I think you'll enjoy the two timestamps as well since we get to see more of the couple they are later on in their relationship when it's more mature. 😉

He's My Man (Part 5)

Summary: Russell's taken care of the reader's problem but things take a turn and the happy couple may not be so happy after all...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 6,300ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury/past drugging/brief mention of attempted assault (not shown) mention, angst, fluff, smut, stalker, murder, self-worth issues

A/N: Thank you all for taking this journey with me with writing this new character! I might return to this world someday but until then, please enjoy the finale!

__________

When you pulled up to the dark house, you noticed Russell’s car had been pulled into the garage and covered with a tarp. You swallowed as you pulled in beside it, biting back bile when Owen parked right behind you, preventing any escape if it came to that. You’d given Russell nearly thirty minutes notice to prepare. You really hoped whatever he had planned was going to be over with fast.

“Fuck,” said Owen, dashing from his car in the downpour to inside the garage. He shook himself off like a dog and pulled off his baseball cap. You’d seen the gash on his forehead before but from the overhead light, a skull fracture was very visible. The dried blood had matted into his thick hair and, along with the other injuries, made him look half-dead.

“Why don’t you go relax inside, honey?” you forced out when you exited, slamming the door shut loudly, hoping Russell picked up on the fact you were here. “I’ll get the bags and then I’ll take a look at those cuts.”

“Thanks, baby. Don’t take too long.” You didn’t like how he kept saying that. He’d hung off of you at the store. Even if he wasn’t a raging psycho, personal space was still a thing.

You pretended to fuss about at the trunk as he went in the door from the garage to the house. It was quiet for a beat, your gaze locked on the open door in the corner.

Two quick shots rang out and you hit the cement floor hard. Nothing could be heard over the rain, your heart hammering away in your chest. Russell wouldn’t have shot Owen, would he? No, Russell would have snuck up on him, taken him out before he knew what hit him.

So had Owen been shooting? Was Russell hurt? You slowly sat up on your hands and knees, crawling along the side of the car until you reached the hood. You peaked your head around the corner and saw a pair of legs lying on the ground through the open door. It looked like Owen so you carefully rose, flinching when Russell came bounding in from behind you.

He held up his hands, your eyes widening at the blood staining his crisp white tee.

“What-”

“My stitches tore,” he said, turning his bicep towards you, the blood staining underneath the bandage. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, glancing back inside to where the body lay motionless. “Did you kill him?”

“Not yet,” said Russell, inching past you towards a work bench. “Although he did shoot my fucking front door. Do you have any idea how much a custom mahogany door costs? I might kill him for that alone.”

Russell opened a drawer, taking out duct tape and zip ties. He slammed it shut, pausing with his back to you.

“He’s not going to leave you alone if I let him live.”

“I know. He’s been following me for awhile I guess,” you said.

“I can frame him for Elpine’s murder if you don’t want me to kill him.” You leaned back against your car, Russell setting the items on the bench and joining you. “I don’t have to…you know.”

“How are you going to kill him?” you asked after a moment.

“Bag over the head. He’s passed out. He wouldn’t even feel it. Are you sure that’s what-” You went to his workbench and ripped off a garbage bag from the roll, Russell closing his eyes. “Y/N, you should stay out here. Let me do this.”

“Owen started slipping roofies into my drinks when I was fifteen.” His head snapped up as you sighed. “He drugged me twice but nothing happened because my dad was around. I had to be more careful once dad started to lose it. Owen’s a good decade older than me I’m sure you noticed. I’ve been scared of this guy for too long. I’m not asking you to kill him. I’m asking you to show me how to do this myself.”

“I appreciate how strong you are but I’m doing it,” he said, taking the bag from you. You dropped your hand, frowning up at him. He sighed, stroking your cheek with his clean hand. “Your soul has enough scars for a lifetime. Don’t add more.”

“You don’t have to kill someone for me, Russell. You don’t need that on you either. Look what you’ve already done.”

“I won’t lose any sleep over him. You can do something for me though.” You sighed, nodding once. “Go back to the store and buy some extra large garbage bags and some duct tape, got it?”

“Um, yeah. Are you-”

“Y/N. We’re on the clock. We’ll talk later,” he said, kissing your temple. “Now go.”

Three Hours Later

“To be perfectly clear, I’m doing this for Y/N, not you,” said Colter with a coldness you didn’t love. You knew Russell’s relationship with his little brother was strained but you’d thought it had gotten better over the past few days.

“Yeah, well it don’t take a genius to see you like her better,” said Russell, Colter rolling his eyes, an uncharacteristic move. “I’ll never ask you for a thing again. You never even have to speak to me. Think what you want about me. Just please do this for Y/N’s sake.”

“I already…” huffed Colter when you side eyed him with narrowed eyes. He let out a slow exhale. “Fine. You owe me, Russell. Big.”

“Colter,” you said, nodding towards his truck. You left Russell as he went back to taping the large cooler in the garage shut. You assumed he’d put Owen inside and cleaned up while you were gone at the store. The rain had paused momentarily but there was another batch of storms coming through soon. You sighed as you stopped next to the younger Shaw, Colter crossing his arms. “I’m not letting you do this. I know Russell asked but I can’t let you move a body for me.”

He narrowed his eyes, face turning into a scowl.

“I’m not moving…Russell!” Russ’ head popped up, Colter becoming increasingly annoyed. “Tell me what is going on right now or I swear you and me are done. Forever.”

Russell sighed, throwing his head back. “I may have lied about the Y/N wanting to tag along with you so she can tidy up her place in Virginia.”

“You what?” you asked, storming over to him. “You were trying to pawn me off on Colter again? For what! Owen’s dead, there’s no one left to bother me.”

“Sweetie,” said Russell, closing his eyes. “Owen should not have made it out alive and the fact he did isn’t good.”

Slowly Russell met your gaze, ignoring Colter behind you. “So is this how it’s going to be? Any time everything’s not perfect you’re going to drop me on your brothers doorstep at the drop of a hat? News flash, Colter isn’t my babysitter. I’m a grown woman who has seen and handled more crap than you know. I thought you didn’t think of me as a damsel.”

“I don’t but-”

“But you don’t want me around for the hard stuff. I got the message.”

“Y/N, someone else could still be left. They could kill you-” You held up your hand, Colter heading back to his truck to give you some space.

“I think I finally understand how you’re so perfect but alone. You live this life like you’re this happy go lucky guy but it’s a mask. All you actually see is the dark side of it. Of everything. You are more than happy to step into my dark side but you won’t let me see yours? You wouldn’t let me kill Owen. You won’t let me help clean it up. Even when it’s because of me. You have to always be the hero. Honestly, thinking about it, it’s been all my shit we’ve talked about. All you say is your got a dark past but you haven’t shared diddly squat. Is this how it’s going to be Russell? Because frankly, I want more than that. I told you I don’t need you to do things for me, I just need you to help me do them.”

Russell swallowed, face going stoic. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Your heart dropped like a rock into the pit of your stomach, Russell’s jaw clenching. “You should pack up your stuff here and go with Colter. Go back to Virginia. You’re probably right. This was just attraction, plain and simple.”

“Russell, that’s not what I was saying-”

“Yeah, it was. Just go. Please. I’ll deal with Owen. Just go back to Virginia and start your life over away from people like us.” With that he brushed past you for Colter, ignoring his repeated calls.

“Asshole,” you mumbled as you went inside and shoved the few belongings that weren’t in the trunk of your car into a bag. You very purposefully left every pair of underwear, bra and pajamas he’d bought you behind. The cheap sports bra and cotton underwear you’d bought earlier would get you through until you were home.

If that’s how Russell wanted to end things, fine. You were free of the mafia. Free of guys with fucked up pasts. Your options were limitless.

And thank god Colter was smart enough to not ask about your red rimmed eyes by the time you were on the road.

Five Days Later

You gave Colter a wave from your front step as he drove off down the street. It’d taken only two days to drive cross country this time. Apparently you drove faster when you were upset. Or you didn’t sleep as much. Either way, Colter didn’t ask and was happy to get to Virginia where he had a missing accountant to find.

He used your kitchen as a base of operations and you let him crash in the guest room. In exchange, Colter got you hooked up with the basics of reward work. There were some extra perils to the job being a woman but also advantages that Colter didn’t have. He went over finding jobs, finding a team, learning how to get access to tools and databases. You didn’t have a lot of confidence in going after a full fledged disappearance yet but Colter mentioned it wasn’t always people that were what was missing.

By the end of his short stay, you had information overload but were grateful for the chance to start doing something good for once in your life.

Meanwhile, Russell hadn’t reached out once. You had to assume he’d disposed of Owen. You weren’t sure why you were still waiting for a text or a call. It was pretty clear things were over. Russell was too protective and you weren’t going to let another man tell you what to do again.

Yet, you knew you were at fault too. Russell had just killed a guy in his house for you and he knew a hell lot more about getting away with a murder than you did. Russell had points for not wanting to involve you. And you had to be an asshole and pressure him for more when there was literally a dead body at your feet.

“I’m an idiot,” you groaned, leaning against the kitchen island with your head lowered. “Why did I do that?”

The doorbell rang, your head slowly rising. You sighed as you went to it, pulling it open quickly.

“Did you forget-” You cut yourself off when you didn’t see Colter standing there. No, instead stood Russell in a trim black suit, his hair slicked back and a bouquet of orange and red flowers in his hands. “Russ? What-”

“Let me get this out and then I’ll get out of your life forever if that’s what you want,” he said. You leaned against the door jam, Russell taking a deep breath. “Y/N, I like you. A lot. Too much probably for how long we’ve known each other. Everything you said was right. I avoid my problems because it’s a hell of a lot easier to fix someone else’s in my experience.”

He swallowed, glancing at his feet. “Owen could have hurt you at that store. He could have taken you, shown up at the house and killed you. I fucked up and you don’t seem to understand that Owen’s obsession and how fucking smart you are is the only reason we’re still here and he’s not. I told you I took care of it and I didn’t. I was angry at myself and wanted you somewhere safer than with me so I pushed your buttons on purpose. I lied on purpose so you’d get mad and leave with Colter. You deserve a good man and I’m not him. I kill people. I use sex as a way to be close to women but then never let myself be in a relationship because I don’t want them to see beneath the surface and see the shit that’s in there. I want better for you than me.”

Russell looked up, a tiny smile forming on his face. “Can we try being friends again and maybe I can become that man that deserves you along the way?”

“Russell,” you sighed. You stepped forward, cupping his cheeks, green eyes full of caution. “We can be friends. I’d like it if we were more than that, though.”

He slowly smiled, his lip ticking up when you stroked his cheek.

“I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. You do not have to share your deepest darkest secrets with me, never mind the first day we’re actually together. That was unfair of me. I just want you to know you can share them with me if you want to.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Y/N,” he said softly. “Dozens. Some of them, most of them, I never gave two shits about. No nightmares. No trauma. That’s not normal. It’s been years since I’ve felt all that bad about killing.”

“You don’t need to feel bad about killing monsters,” you said. He closed his eyes and you leaned in, kissing his forehead. “S’that why you didn’t want me to kill Owen?”

“Moral and practical reasons,” he whispered. “I don’t kill out of revenge. I don’t think I ever have. It always has another purpose. Protect someone, protect a group or the general public from a threat. Some psych told me once that’s why I don’t struggle as much with what I’ve done as some other folks. The way I grew up helped me with that. But I do struggle with it still and you’ve struggled enough. You don’t need that on you.”

“I understand. I’m so used to being controlled and told what to do…I can never go back to that.”

“You never will,” he said, opening his eyes. You tilted your head, Russell turned into your touch to match. “I’m sure I’ll fuck things up again. We can be friends if that’s all you ever want.”

“I don’t want to be just friends. So what if we fight? That’s what couples do.” You took his hand in yours and the flowers in the other, leading him inside behind you.

“I quit my job a few days ago.” You froze, spinning around on your heels. He shrugged, still holding your hand. “I can’t change my life without making some changes.”

“You still want to do that home brew for a career?”

“Yeah. I’d like to give it a shot.” He spotted the stacks of papers on your kitchen table and open computer. “Colter offer you a spot on his team?”

“He did at first but I want to try doing it my way, stop patching up the bad guys and doing something good. He warned me it can be dangerous work though, especially as a woman flying solo.”

“He makes very good points,” said Russell, thumbing at your lip when you smiled. “What’s that look for?”

“Maybe you could be on my team sometimes, show me a few moves from the expert.” You started to walk backwards towards your bedroom, Russell’s eyebrows raising. “If you want to.”

“I’ll show you any kind of moves you’d like, qark.” He held his ground though, stopping you in place. You waited for the but to come, for him to push back on getting back together. Instead, he took the flowers from your hand and went into your kitchen, finding a tall glass and filling it with water. He set the flowers on the island before rejoining you, resting his hands on your hips. “I like the idea of working together as partners.”

“But…” you said, Russell kissing the top of your head.

“But you are far too kind, my queen of darkness. I was expecting to get told to get lost tonight and I have plans I can’t get out of with my friends very shortly.”

“Oh,” you said, Russell’s finger tips finding the ends of your hair and playing with a few strands. “If you have plans, we can meet up another-”

“You want to know my dark side?” Your eyes flicked to meet his, your head nodding once. “You can’t unknow what kind of man I am once you do. I don’t blame you if you change your mind about me.”

“I want to know you. All of you.” He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Go change into something discreet. Dark clothes. Leave your phone home. If at any point you want to leave, say so and I bring you right back here, understand?” You nodded, Russell backing away. “Mind if I change in your bathroom?”

“You can change in the bedroom with me.” He smirked but backed away.

“Another time. We have an appointment to keep.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, Russell glancing away.

“Don’t be mad but we need to pay Owen a visit.”

Twenty minutes later you quietly followed Russell into what looked like a decommission warehouse that should have been torn down a decade ago. The building was pitch black apart from the single light coming from the end of a hallway. You stuck behind Russell as you entered the room, stopping when you found six different men and a woman inside, most carrying a weapon on their hip or tucked into their jeans from what you could tell.

And smack in the center of the room tied to a chair was Owen very much still alive. Although…alive was being generous. He didn’t look more injured than when you’d last seen him but his color was off and his eyes were red and puffy. He wasn’t even angry when he saw you, just…scared.

“He behave while I was gone?” asked Russell to a man and woman nearby.

“Tried bribing Doug and then all of us to let him go,” said the woman. She gave Owen a nasty look before turning gentle as she looked towards Russell. “I think you scared the poor boy, Shaw.”

“Oh, who’s afraid of little old me?” said Russell, giving Owen a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So. Owen, my friends. Friends, Owen. You’re already acquainted with Y/N.”

Owen’s gaze flickered to you when Russell grabbed a chair from the wall and sat it a few feet away from Owen, facing him. Russell sat down slowly, nodding when you moved closer so you could see both their faces.

“Why’s he still alive?” you asked quietly. Owen’s eyes widened, Russell tsking him.

“On me, big guy,” said Russell, snapping his fingers, Owen reluctantly looking at him. “You got some options. Prison. You die very quickly. Or…me and my friends can make sure you die very slowly. Your choice.”

“Why didn’t you kill him yet?” you asked again. Russell sighed, glancing down. “Russell.”

“There were some things that never sat right with me that I wanted answers to. The stuff with your family’s accident and your dad’s paranoia, him attacking you. I had a paranoid father too. I know the signs, know that they want to protect us in their own way. The coincidence of meeting someone just like me was too high so I started to dig. You mentioned Owen’s drugged you a few times in the past and tried to hurt you.”

“Yeah…I’m not following,” you said. Russell stood slowly, staring down Owen like a predator with it’s prey firmly caught in a trap.

“I figured if he drugged you, who else had he slipped something to? What good man, good doctor, could a prescription drug running family slip into his drinks? The more I researched, the more my friends helped, the more we found.” Russell clenched his fists by his side, knuckles turning white. “Should I tell her Owen? Or do you have the balls to tell her yourself?”

Russell ripped off the tape over his mouth, Owen wincing as he breathed deeply. Russell was on him like that, grabbing his throat, not squeezing but adding enough pressure that it was going to be uncomfortable. “I told you to talk, you sack of shit.”

“Y/N, this guys is lying. I never did anything to you!” Russell’s jaw clenched and you watched him squeeze, only backing off when you laid a gentle hand on Russell’s shoulder.

“He’s psycho!” said Owen, Russell backing up a step. You looked up to him, Russell’s face unreadable. “Y/N, baby-”

“Shut the fuck up before I stab you in your spine,” you said. Owen’s jaw snapped shut, a flicker of something in Russell’s eyes. Pride? Amusement? It quickly flittered away, replaced with worry when you held out a hand. “Can I have your knife?”

Russell slowly took it out of his pocket, handing the engraved handle out to you. You flicked it open and took a seat in the chair, holding it pointed down at the concrete floor.

“Owen. Tell me the truth and I won’t kill you. I swear. But I can get the answers from you if you don’t cooperate. Don’t make me get my boyfriend’s knife bloody.”

You heard a muttered damn from someone behind you, your focus on Owen. He sagged in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Our old fixer wanted out, wanted to go to the feds so my dad had him killed. I was eighteen and he told me to start earning my place as successor. He told me to find a new fixer. Your dad was one of the best doctors in the city. Things were…arranged. Two weeks later we-”

Russell smacked the back of his head. Hard. Owen grunted, shaking it out.

“Two weeks later I…put a hit on your family. Your mom and brother specifically. We only needed one kid to survive and I thought a girl would be easier to control. I started drugging your father that night with antipsychotics to create paranoia,” said Owen, his head hanging low. “I orchestrated the whole thing. We fed him the drugs for years, it made him stay close if not a little extreme. It kept taking more though.”

“Do. Not. Skip. Ahead,” growled Russell, grabbing a fistful of Owen’s shirt.

“O-okay. I-I…I started thinking about how to get your dad to stick around once you grew up and you were pretty and smart and I thought you’d be happy with me.”

“How old was she when you decided this?” barked Russell. Owen whimpered, trying to curl in on himself. “Fifteen you disgusting waste of space.”

“You started drugging me then,” you said. Owen shook his head.

“Not with that stuff. Just roofies. But not enough for you to be completely out of it. Your dad started keeping a closer eye on you and I tried waiting for you to come around on your own but it was so hard when you went away to college. I knew I couldn’t let you run off like that again so…” Owen’s shoulders shook, mouth snapping shut.

“So you roofied her, attacked her and she fought back. Her father protected her and you fucking killed him for it. Your dear old daddy found what you’d done and wasn’t happy, was he? He covered up your murder and blamed her father knowing Y/N wouldn’t remember a thing. Y/N was forced to go to med school and learn crap she didn’t want to all while daddy had you banished away from her. You tried to keep tabs on her but it wasn’t until dad died that you could finally take Y/N like you wanted. It’s pure fucking luck I showed up when I did to make sure that didn’t happen. Would you like to tell Y/N about the fucking padded door locks and bars on the window in her old room back at the house? About your plans for her?”

Russell grabbed Owen’s hair, forcing his head up. Owen was trembling, whispering apologies and saying how he didn’t mean it, over and over.

“So…you killed my family…and tried to assault me more than once over the years…and were planning on keeping me as a…pet in the house until I magically fell in love with you. I think that sums it up,” you said. You stood up, handing Russell his knife. “I’m not going to kill him.”

“Thank you,” sighed Owen in relief. “Thank you. I-I knew you’d be able to forgive me-”

“Oh, I don’t forgive you and I wouldn’t be thanking me,” you said, smiling up at Russell. ““Papa Elpine and a few guys made it out I heard. Bobby was his favorite son, right?”

“Y/N! I killed Bobby! They’ll-” Russell shoved some tape over his mouth and hummed.

You crossed your arms, Russell tilting his head at you. “You know they’re going to torture Owen to death.”

“I said I wouldn’t hurt him and I’m keeping my word,” you said, Owen shouting under the tape. “I’d tell you to confess but Elpine’s connected. He’d just have you killed in prison. So. Elpine it is.”

“You sure?” asked Russell. You pursed your lips, Owen pleading with his eyes. Everything in you wanted to say yes, let him get what he had coming.

So why couldn’t you say it?

You looked to Russell, nodding. “Get rid of him, please,” you mouthed.

“Look away,” said Russell. You turned around, Owen panting hard before there was a loud crack and the room was still. Russell’s hand found your shoulder, rubbing it softly. “We took care of Elpine’s guys. You know that.”

“I just wanted him to be as scared as I’ve been. I-I just…why’d it have to be my family?” You found his face, Russell smiling sadly.

“I’ve asked myself that question a lot over the years. Best I came up with is you got to try and let it go. The world’s good and bad and that’s all there is to it.” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder, walking you towards the door. You nearly looked back but he blocked you with his body. “No. He’s gone for good, you don’t need to give him anything more. I’m sorry for not killing him back in Washington. I just thought you deserved the truth. Your dad was a good man.”

“Thank you,” you said, closing your eyes. “I wish I realized that sooner.”

“Come on,” he said, walking you out to the hallway. “Let’s get you home.”

One Month Later

You smiled from your chair when Russell let out a single tiny snore from the couch across from you. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days and honestly, it was kind of adorable the way this incredibly dangerous man made the cutest cooing noises while he slept.

“You’re staring at me,” he mumbled without opening his eyes a few minutes later. You looked around, holding up a finger. “I can feel you watching, like a creeper.”

“Well, you make these cute sounds when you sleep,” you said. He smirked, slowly flicking his lazy eyes open.

“And who’s fault is it that I haven’t been sleeping, hm?” You shrugged and slid down in your chair with your book, grinning behind the pages. “I can see that smile, you know that?”

“Don’t blame me for the amazing orgasms you give,” you said, flicking your eyes over the top of the book, Russell propping himself up on his elbows with a predatory gaze. “Down boy. Later.”

“You better,” he said, plopping back with a huff. “Remind me to never help Frank with a favor ever again.”

“Frank helped you with Owen,” you reminded him. Russell scoffed.

“All he did with Owen was stand there and look scary. I didn’t make him build a fucking deck in the pacific northwest in forty degree weather.”

“Aw, is baby boy cranky?” you teased. He growled, playfully tossing his pillow at you. “You guys should wrap up tomorrow, right?”

“That’s the plan. Then I’m going back to waking up at a humane hour,” he said, forcing himself to sit up and stretch out with a few grunts. “How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half. You needed it,” you said, flipping a page. Russell glanced over to the dining table, taking in the decorated spread.

“You set a place for Colter?” he asked.

“Yes…right next to Dory’s,” you said, closing your book and setting it aside. “You still think he won’t come?”

“He’s not the kind of guy to come to a housewarming party. Especially his brother’s housewarming party. We still haven’t talked since…”

“I know,” you said, standing and pulling him to his feet. He was still sleepy as you ruffled his hair, Russell turning into the touch. “I’m excited to meet your friends and family properly.”

“They want to know all about you, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. “You can’t imagine the amount of shit they’ve given me after I said I’d never settle down.”

“I moved in a week ago. We’re a ways from settling down,” you said. He titled his head, smiling at you. “Don’t give me that face.”

“What face?” he teased, leaning in close, dipping his head, kissing under your jaw.

“Shaw! Do not give me a hickey! I do not want them seeing-” You sucked in a breath, brain going fuzzy when he nipped at the soft flesh.

“Too bad, qark. If I have to have hickeys all over my neck then so do you,” he said, suckling the skin. A buzzer went off in the kitchen and he groaned when you slipped away so the rolls wouldn’t burn. “Y/N…”

“Saved by the bell,” you said, taking out the pan and leaving them to cool off. Russell was by your side quickly, hands on your hips so you couldn’t escape. “Okay. How about you can give me as many hickeys as you want later if you’re a good boy this afternoon?”

“Hm, I do like being your good boy,” he said, squeezing your hips. “Deal.”

“Good. Where do you keep-“

The doorbell trilled, your heads turning towards the front windows. A familiar pickup truck was out front, Russell raising his eyebrows. You nodded for the door, Russell cautious as he answered. Colter stood on the front porch with an awkward forced smile and a pink box.

“I uh, picked up some dessert for dinner later,” he said offering the box. Russell took it, setting it aside on the front table. “You going to invite me in?”

“I thought you…” Russell shook his head and opened the door wider, letting his younger brother inside. Colter gave you a brief smile before clearing his throat.

“I uh, can help you get ready or cook. I just…last time we talked Russell…”

You smiled to yourself when Russell closed the gap between them, giving Colter a strong embrace. “Let's leave that shit behind us. Thanks for coming, Colt.”

“Yeah,” said Colter, returning it for a moment before the boys broke apart. “How’s the girlfriend situation working out for you?”

“I’m telling you man, find the right girl, you’ll never want to go back to being a loner,” said Russell, giving you a smirk. “They do come with a lot of rules though, fair warning.”

“I asked you to put the toilet seat down, Shaw,” you chided.

“Like I said, rules,” teased Russell. You picked up a knife by your cutting board, narrowing your eyes. “We should help before she starts using that on us.”

“Yes you should,” you said, Colter shrugging out of his jacket and boots, joining your side after washing up. “Can you cut up the veggies into strips?”

“Can do,” he said, swapping places with you. You smiled when Russell took the dessert box and started to arrange the treats on a platter over on the dinning table. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior the last time we were all here.”

You frowned as you peeled a bag of potatoes into a bowl. “You mean when I lost my cool on Russell? You have nothing to apologize for Colter. We were asking you for a favor. Again. I’m honestly surprised you don’t hate me. I know you value your alone time.”

Colter was quiet, chopping neatly and pushing the scraps into a discard bowl. “Did Russell ever tell you how he got that gunshot he went to you for in the first place?”

“Someone kidnapped Doug. He went to save him.”

“Did you know I helped him with that?” You shook your head, setting the peeler down. Colter had stopped dicing, a barely there smile crossing his face. “If it weren’t for my brother asking for my help with his friends, I’m not sure we ever would have spoke again.”

“I know there’s a complicated history there.” He hummed, watching Russell across the room. “It means a lot to him that you’re trying too.”

“S’all we can do is try, right?” he said, going back to his cutting. “So. My brother is clearly head over heels. What about you? Should I expect a wedding invitation soon?”

“Uh, no,” you said, laughing to yourself. “We’re certainly not traditional but we’re nowhere near ready for that. We’ll see how living together goes for awhile before we talk about anything like long term plans.”

“Yet you moved in already.” You rolled your eyes. “Just an observation.”

“For convenience sake. Russ is looking into land for the brewery around here since he left his job and apartments in town are limited.”

“Right. I’m sure that’s it. Silly me,” he said. You held up your peeler to him, Colter raising his hands. “Russ, I think I broke one of your girlfriend’s rules.”

“It was nice knowing ya,” said Russell with a chuckle. “Give him a swift death for me, qark.”

“Qark?” asked Colter as you turned your attention to the potatoes.

“Queen of darkness. Now hurry up with those so you and Russ can have some alone time before dinner.”

Six Hours Later

“This is going well,” said Russell to you in the kitchen as laughed and a smoky scent filtered in from the back porch. “Everyone really likes you.”

“I suppose I have met them all before, except for Dory. She’s such a sweetheart. I don’t know what I was expecting but-”

“She was much younger than us when our dad died. After she went to live with our aunt and uncle. She’s tough but normal in a way Colter and I won’t ever…” You rubbed his back, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close. “Did you like, drug him? Or bribe him? I seriously can’t believe he’s still here let alone came.”

“Of course he came. No matter what’s happened in the past, he loves his big brother.” Russell tucked you into his side, smiling when you rested your head on his shoulder. “I found a job in Wyoming. Missing prized show dog. I was going to head out in the morning, see if I’m any good at this.”

“You’ll be wonderful,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Be safe though.”

“I will be.” You turned in his hold to face him, wrapping your arms around his back in a hug. “It’s been a long time since anyone cared if I was safe. It’s nice. This weird little family you have is…I’m jealous to be honest.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s yours too.” You raised your eyebrows, Russell raising his own, eyes going wide. “No! No, I don’t mean like, officially yours. Like metaphorically. I’m not ready for anything official. Someday but so not right now.”

“Me either,” you said, the tension running out of his face. “I want to know who we are without our old jobs, how to be a happy queen of darkness.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” he said. “Speaking of which, I got you a present for helping organize all of this and cooking for ten people after literally just moving cross country. I know it was stressful so I wanted to make it up to you.”

“I don’t need a present, Russ,” you said, a sneaky smile forming on his face. “Oh. This is a present for the both of us.”

“I got you a new pair of jammies, the lilac set this time,” he said. Russell’s smile grew as yours did, his arms lifting you off the ground, bringing you to eye level. “You deserve all the good things in life, qark.”

“I think we got something pretty good starting right here,” you said, kissing him once, Russell humming.

“I couldn’t agree more, baby. Couldn’t agree more.”

__________

#fic feedback #russell shaw x reader

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mintyys-blog · 2 days ago

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hai! Can you do Nicole! Or Jecka! Reader with Mark variants? From class of 09 🤭🤭‼️‼️‼️

HEADCANONS | mark variants with Nicole or Jecka! reader

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: smoking, swearing

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work (AI generated or otherwise) without my permission. @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK

Mark never fully understood what drew him to you. Maybe it was how you laughed at things you shouldn’t. Maybe it was the way you always said what everyone else was too scared to. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because despite your dark humor and unapologetically brutal mouth, you never once lied about who you were.

You were curled on the couch in one of his hoodies, makeup smudged, eyes bored as you scrolled through your phone. “Some girl on Twitter just said you’re the reason half of Chicago is dead. She’s not wrong.”

Mark looked up from the kitchen, confused. “Are… are you okay?”

You turned slowly to him with a smirk, “I’m fine, boy scout. Why? Gonna cry if I say something mean again?”

“No,” he muttered. “You’re just—You’re a lot sometimes.”

“Good,” you replied with a wink. “Be more worried if I start acting soft. That’s how you know I’ve been kidnapped or lobotomized.”

You didn’t flirt like other girls. You insulted him and then smirked when his ears turned red. You were quick-witted, toxic as hell, and had zero interest in playing the role of doting girlfriend. But when he was injured, when he dragged himself home bloody and half-conscious, you always patched him up. You always made sure he ate. You cussed him out the whole time, but he never missed how your hands trembled while stitching him back together.

“I don’t need your help,” he said once.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and I don’t need birth control, but here we are making bad decisions together.”

For all your venom, you never made him feel unsafe. Even when you called every man a walking red flag, even when you mocked him for getting teary during a movie—you still climbed into bed beside him every night. You were fire. And sometimes he burned, but God, he couldn’t stop coming back.

SINISTER MARK

Sinister Mark was used to liars, manipulators, and people who smiled sweetly before stabbing him in the back. But you? You were different.

You never hid what you were.

You called yourself a sociopath in the first ten minutes of meeting him. Made a joke about how you only cry when your dealer dies. When Mark raised an eyebrow, you just gave him a crooked grin and said, “At least I’m honest about it.”

He found you fascinating.

Not because you were evil. He’d met evil. He was evil.

No—you were comfortable with your darkness. You wore it like silk. Made it look glamorous and sharp all at once.

“Your eyes are twitching,” you said one evening, stretched across his couch in a stolen Viltrumite cloak like it was just another thrift store piece. “You thinking about murdering a planet again, or are you mad that I flirted with the bartender to get a free drink?”

He didn’t answer. He was still watching you.

“You’re so fucking creepy,” you laughed. “I like it.”

Sinister Mark wasn’t the kind of man who coddled or doted. But he let you talk. Let you unravel your venomous thoughts without flinching. Most people would’ve tried to fix you—he just let you be.

You toyed with his knives, walked barefoot around blood-soaked floors, and made ruthless jokes at the worst possible times. And when he called you out on it?

“You think I care about moral high grounds? Babe, I’m dating a guy who vaporized a school bus.”

The truth was—he trusted you.

You didn’t have morals, but you had rules. You never lied to him. You never betrayed him. You treated him like a weapon to be admired, not feared. And for someone who was used to being a monster under the bed?

That kind of devotion was addicting.

He didn’t say I love you. You didn’t either. But the moment you laughed while stitching him up, whispering “Don’t die, asshole, you owe me dinner”—he realized he wouldn’t let anyone else have you.

Ever.

MOHAWK MARK

Mark was the emperor of the Viltrumite Empire now—but none of that meant anything to her. She sat on the throne’s armrest in ripped tights, a wrinkled band tee of MSI barely hanging off her shoulder, and a cigarette between her fingers. He didn’t like the smell, but he let her have it. She was one of the only things that still made him feel anything other than rage.

“Shouldn’t you be interrogating someone or vaporizing a planet?” she asked lazily, her pupils slightly blown from whatever she’d taken an hour ago. “I’m bored.”

Mark’s fingers tightened on the armrest, but not from anger. It was restraint. Every time she looked at him with those indifferent eyes, that tired smirk—it reminded him that she wasn’t afraid of him. Not really. And he liked it. Needed it.

“Maybe I wanted to see you instead.”

“Ew,” she snorted. “Cringe.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling her effortlessly onto his lap. She didn’t resist, just exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, still smirking.

“You’re gonna ruin your lungs.”

“And you’re gonna ruin the galaxy. Guess we’re both problematic.”

He chuckled under his breath, running a hand along her bare thigh. “You didn’t answer my message last night.”

“I was busy,” she lied, easily. “Nicole had another freak-out over some dude trying to text her ‘good morning.’ We had to spiritually hex him.”

“Nicole’s psychotic.”

Y/N turned to look at him. “And you’re not?”

Touché.

He didn’t bother arguing. Instead, he kissed her—tasting smoke, lipstick, and the chemical tinge of something that probably wasn’t legal on Earth anymore.

She leaned back with a lazy smile, one hand curling behind his neck. “You gonna marry me or what, Emperor?”

He blinked. “Was that a proposal?”

She popped a pill from a little case in her bra, swallowed it dry, and shrugged. “Nah. Just gauging your reaction.”

He laughed. “I hate you.”

“Love you too, baby.” And somehow, she meant it. In her own messy, numbed-out way.

VILTRUMITE MARK

The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful. It was loud. Thick with tension.

Mark stood across from you, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in suspicion—or maybe frustration. You couldn’t tell. You were too busy lighting a cigarette, one leg casually crossed over the other as you sat on the countertop in his home. Your home now, apparently. Not that you gave a shit.

“Can you not do that in here?” he said tightly, waving his hand at the smoke cloud.

You took a long drag anyway. “And you can punch a guy’s face off, but my Marlboro Light is the problem?”

“You’re going to destroy your body.”

You snorted. “Bit late for lectures, Daddy Warblood. We passed destruction like four exits ago.”

Mark moved closer. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

You flicked ash into a glass. “So am I. You didn’t fall in love with a nun. You picked me.” You tilted your head, smirking with venom. “Unless you’re regretting that.”

Mark glared. “You know I’m not.”

“Then what’s the issue?” you said, hopping off the counter, leaning into his space like you weren’t talking to a genetically perfect super predator. “That I talk shit? That I don’t simper and coo like your little Earth girls? That I know how to make a grown man cry and piss himself in one sentence?”

He didn’t move when you pressed a finger against his chest.

“I’m not soft. I’m not sweet. I’m not your dead mom’s idea of a wife. But I’m real.”

Mark stared at you. You could see it behind his expression—he didn’t always understand you. Hell, he probably didn’t even trust you fully. But you weren’t here to be trusted.

You were here to be feared. Loved. Broken maybe, but beautifully so.

And for all your filth, your cruelty, your manipulation—he never raised a hand to you. Never hurt you. Because some twisted part of him liked it. Liked you.

“You’re reckless,” he finally muttered.

You grinned. “And you’re into it.”

He kissed you then, harsh and possessive, like he was trying to shut you up with his mouth.

Didn’t work. But it was a good start.

OMNI MARK

Omni Mark didn’t understand her.

Not in the way most people claimed to “not get girls”—no. He was a being that had lived centuries, had studied humans, ruled them, ended them. And yet… Y/N—dressed in a pleated skirt, MSI blaring from the busted speaker in the corner, cigarette tucked between her fingers like it belonged there—was a complete enigma.

“You’re smoking again,” he muttered, voice low and unimpressed, standing in the doorway with his arms folded.

Y/N exhaled slowly, then lazily glanced over her shoulder. “And you’re breathing again. Guess we both have addictions, huh?”

She grinned as he stepped forward.

“You’re going to destroy your lungs,” he said, tone flat.

She looked up at him from the couch, her makeup a little smudged from the night before, a pill bottle sitting open beside her. “I mean, if the warlord I’m screwing isn’t killing me, I gotta get creative.”

“You call that creativity?” he shot back dryly, eyeing the mix of medications and the ashtray.

But she just patted the seat beside her. “You knew what you were getting into, Viltrumite Daddy.”

He ignored the nickname. Always did.

Omni Mark never said much about her habits—he’d erase her stash, toss the pills, demand she eat instead of pop a bar—but never yell. He wasn’t a yeller. He was worse—controlled. Cold. And yet, there was a strange protectiveness in the way he watched her—especially when she slept, or when she mumbled his name during a bad trip.

“Sit,” she said more softly this time. “I’ll switch to edibles or whatever if it’ll make you stop hovering.”

He sat beside her, one hand resting on her thigh—not possessive, just grounding.

“You are… volatile,” he muttered.

“Mm. So are nukes,” she replied, nuzzling into his side. “But people worship those too.”

He glanced down at her—eyeliner smudged, fingers trembling slightly from the high, and a playlist of angry electropunk pouring from her phone—and said nothing.

But he didn’t leave. He never did.

NO GOGGLES MARK

There was blood on the floor again.

Not yours. Not his.

Just another idiot who thought they could mouth off to you in front of him.

You were wiping a smear off your cheek with the back of your hand, smirking as you stepped over the crumpled body. The twitching was slowing down. Good. You hated when they made noise for too long.

“You didn’t even let me finish my sentence,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder at him.

Mark was leaning against the doorframe, hands still bloodied, his expression unreadable under the splatter. His lips twitched, like he might smile—but with him, who could tell?

“You said you wanted a quiet night,” he said flatly. “So I shut him up.”

You clicked your tongue, flicking a piece of brain matter off your boot. “I meant dinner and maybe fucking on the couch while something burns in the oven. Not murder in the goddamn foyer.”

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate, looking down at you like a predator sizing up something just as sharp. Just as dangerous.

“But you liked it,” he murmured, his voice deep and calm. “Don’t lie to me.”

You met his stare. Didn’t blink. “I loved it.”

And it was true.

You weren’t like his other versions of Y/N. You didn’t gasp when he tore someone apart. You didn’t flinch at the violence or beg him to stop. You egged him on. You lit the match. Sometimes you handed him the knife.

And when you did it yourself? He watched. Intrigued. Turned on.

The two of you weren’t in love. Not really.

It was something darker. Something fucked up. A deep need to hurt and be hurt. To own each other in a way that was just shy of ruin.

“You ever get bored of this,” you whispered, pulling his shirt by the collar and pressing against him, “you better kill me. Because I’m not letting you go.”

He stared at you.

Then laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

for some reason I found it really hard to write both Nicole’s and Jeckas personalities— so they aren’t the most accurate.

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #no goggles mark x reader #no goggles invincible #sinister mark x female reader #sinister mark x you #sinister mark grayson #sinister mark x reader #mohawk mark x reader #mohawk mark grayson #mohawk invincible #omni mark x reader #omni mark #viltrum mark x reader #viltrumite mark x reader #viltrumite mark #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson

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baocean · 2 days ago

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Hi! I love poyp so much!

Could you do a blurb of JJ finally winning over Y/Ns parents? They've come to terms with the fact that he's not going anywhere and they invite him for another dinner but they start making digs and Y/N snaps at them in anger and leaves, but JJ stays just to tell them something like "I know I'm not what you wanted for your daughter but if you think I will leave her you're crazy" or something like that?

Also, can't wait to see what you have in-store for Boys Like You

this is so cute! thx for sending <3

your parents invited you over after only a week home from your freshman year.

after an entire year of cold stares, passive-aggressive comments, and backhanded compliments, your parents inviting jj over again almost felt…hopeful. maybe they were finally starting to see what you saw. maybe they were finally giving him a chance.

but the second you sat down, it started.

your mom’s smile was too tight. your dad’s questions too pointed.

"so, jj," your dad said, cutting into his steak, "still working at the marina?"

jj smiled politely. "yep. full-time now, actually."

"and… is that the goal, then?"

you stiffened. jj didn’t flinch. "it’s one of them."

"mm. well, not everyone needs a college degree, i suppose," your mom chimed in with a sip of wine, not meeting your eyes.

you could feel your blood boiling. but jj just nodded, jaw tense, swallowing his pride like he always did.

and then your mom added, "i guess it’s good you’re so loyal. some people just cling to what they know, right?"

jj’s hand brushed yours under the table, grounding you, but your patience snapped.

“okay, you know what?” you said sharply, standing up. “if you brought us here just to talk down to him again, you could’ve saved the wine and spared me the drive.”

your mom blinked, startled. your dad set down his fork.

“he is kind,” you continued, voice shaking. “he is loyal. and he is so much more than the assumptions you’ve made about him since day one. i don’t know what more he has to prove to you, but i’m done watching you make him feel small.”

you grabbed your bag, looked at jj, and said quietly, “i’ll wait in the car.”

he nodded, eyes soft on you. “i’ll be right there.”

and once the door closed behind you, jj stayed in his seat.

“look,” he said, setting his glass down, voice low and steady, “i know i’m not who you pictured. i know i come with a past you wouldn’t have chosen for her.”

he leaned forward, elbows on the table, gaze hard and honest. “but i love your daughter. i would go through hell for her. and if you think for one second that i’m gonna leave her just because you’re uncomfortable with how i got here… then you don’t know me at all.”

he rises, slow and steady, and nods politely.

“thank you for dinner.”

he turns toward the door, already expecting to walk out into the night alone.

and behind him, after a pause, your dad clears his throat.

“next time… maybe you could bring that potato salad you made last time,” he mutters gruffly.

jj turns slightly, surprised. your mom’s still watching him, guarded, but softer now. like maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to see what you do.

he doesn’t smile wide or celebrate.

he just nods.

“sure,” he says. “i’ll bring it.”

and with that, he slips outside into the quiet, heart thudding with something dangerously close to hope.

the second dinner invatation came as a surprise to you both.

it wasn’t a fancy dinner this time.

just a sunday afternoon, backyard chairs, lemonade sweating in plastic cups, jj's potato salad he spent all day working on. your dad at the grill. your mom in her gardening gloves. the kind of casual gathering where expectations were lower, and walls started to come down without anyone noticing.

jj had offered to help your dad with the grill, completely unprompted, and to your surprise, your dad said yes.

you were sitting on the back steps, talking to your mom about the flowers blooming too early this year, when you caught sight of them, jj and your dad, shoulder to shoulder by the grill, laughing about something. real laughter. no tension. no tight smiles.

jj flipped a burger one-handed while holding a conversation about tools and fishing trips like he was born into it.

then later, while everyone was eating, your mom went inside for something and the screen door stuck on its track. without missing a beat, jj hopped up, fixed it with a screwdriver from his pocket (along with three lighters, a hair tie he always kept for you, and a cigarette he didnt tell anyone was there), and then sat back down like it was nothing.

your mom stared at the door for a second longer than she needed to.

and maybe the moment it really shifted was after dinner, when jj was doing the dishes. no one asked him to. he just stood there, sleeves pushed up, joking with you and your mom as he scrubbed a pan. like he belonged there. like this was always part of the plan.

your dad came in with a fresh beer, leaned in the doorway, and watched him for a second.

“he’s good with his hands,” he said quietly. not to you, to your mom. and she just nodded.

later, on the drive home, jj glanced over at you. “i think your dad smiled at me.”

you laughed. “he did, i saw it.”

“and your mom gave me leftover pie in tupperware. that’s gotta be some kind of approval.”

you leaned over, kissed his shoulder, and smiled like the sun was inside you.

“told you, they’re coming around.”

jj just grinned, eyes on the road, heart way too full.

note from the author - ok guys! i know i havent introduced yn being comfortable with jj driving yet but im going to lol just pretend you see that blurb before this one. also, im hoping i can put out another chapter of boys like you/first chapter of tbt but im working all day so pray for me lol

masterlist

taglist - @dr3amgrlll / @jjmaybankmylovee / @smokahontas-113 / @abigailovesz / @enchantedstarfish / @reeseswirl / @lmaowhatt / @moonywhisp3rs / @dylsdaily / @idli-dosa / @bloodofadoll / @cokewithcameron / @mariamadison6-blog / @rrosiitas / @always-reading / @sunflouer04 / @bambigirl10 / @mirellef2001 / @wasiasproject / @kissesandmartinis / @gublerstylesobrien1238 / @isinpfortvdmen / @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account / @mjwashere / @sideboobrry11 / @ameliacione13 / @wrtzia / @sanriobuny / @dramagodesss / @luvrclub / @yesshewrites1 / @ayy1234567 / @doesnt-care / @rainingcecilias / @4jjsbank / @blythee1

#obx fanfiction #jj maybank #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx season 3 #jj mayback imagine #obx jj #john b routledge #jj mayback x reader #obx smau #smau #baocean #jj x kook!reader #jj x you #piss off your parents #jj maybank smau #outer banks smau

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wendichester · 1 day ago

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ almost human,

summary. you teach castiel what it feels like to be human.

pairing. castiel x reader genre. fluffy fluff

wordcount. 1034

It starts with pie.

Specifically, a forkful of cherry pie at some grimy roadside diner in Nebraska, under flickering neon lights and a jukebox humming something sad in the background.

Castiel squints at the plate like it’s a riddle.

“It’s dessert,” you say, nudging it closer. “It’s good. I promise.”

He lifts the fork with all the caution of a man defusing a bomb, then slips it into his mouth—and his eyes widen.

You laugh. “Right? That’s the sugar rush hitting your bloodstream.”

“It’s…” he blinks slowly, as if the flavor itself is too vast to contain. “It’s remarkable.”

“Welcome to the magic of carbs.”

He hums softly and takes another bite. Then another. By the fourth, he’s just staring at the pie like it holds the secrets of the universe.

You rest your chin in your hand. “Have you never tasted anything before?”

“I’ve consumed food, yes,” he says. “But I wasn’t… trying.”

You smile.

“Well, that’s the first lesson, then,” you say. “If you’re gonna be human, you gotta taste things. Really taste them. Let yourself feel it.”

He tilts his head, studying you the way he studies scripture.

“I want to feel everything.”

You grin. “Then come on, angel boy. You’re in for a ride.”

The second lesson is music.

You sit him down with a pair of too-big headphones and a scratched-up vinyl you found at a thrift store. You press play on Fleetwood Mac and watch his expression morph—curious, awed, confused.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asks, voice low.

“Just… listen,” you whisper. “Let it wash over you.”

So he does. Eyes closed. Brows furrowed. The slightest little sway in his shoulders.

And then—

“Do people cry when they hear this?” he asks, voice soft and stunned.

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling. “All the time.”

“I think I understand why.”

You take him to the farmer’s market the next morning, where everything smells like fresh bread and lavender soap. He gets distracted by the honey vendor, sticking his fingers into sample jars with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred texts.

“It’s sweet,” he tells you, licking a bit off his thumb.

“That’s kind of the whole point.”

He smiles—really smiles—and your heart aches a little.

“Teach me more.”

So you do.

You teach him how to blow bubbles with gum (he pops it on his nose). You teach him to skip stones (he accidentally pelts a goose). You teach him how to drive a car (Dean nearly murders you both).

You teach him about sleep.

“You don’t need it,” you explain as you drag blankets onto the library couch, “but you might like it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will,” you say, tossing him a pillow. “Dreaming’s one of the best parts of being human.”

“What do you dream about?”

You smile faintly. “Depends on the night.”

He watches you for a long time before lying down beside you—awkward at first, arms stiff by his sides. But after a few minutes of stillness and breath and quiet, he turns his face toward yours.

“I think I’m dreaming already,” he whispers.

You blink.

“What?”

He looks at you like you’re the miracle. The soft thing. The thing worth crashing down from Heaven for.

“I mean,” he says gently, “how could this be real?”

Later that week, after a long drive and a takeout dinner that Cas insisted on ordering himself (“I’ll have... a chicken... nugget?”), you find yourselves lying in the grass behind the bunker—far from the noise, the work, the weight of hunting.

The sky above is endless. A sweep of ink and stars.

Castiel lies still beside you, arms at his sides, eyes open wide. His gaze is fixed upward, but you know he’s not looking at constellations the way you are. He’s listening. Feeling.

He’s experiencing.

“You said once,” you murmur, “that souls have different sounds to you.”

“Yes.”

“What does mine sound like?”

He turns his head toward you, chest rising and falling slowly.

“It’s... soft,” he says, like he’s tasting the word. “Warm. Gentle, but not quiet. You hum.”

“I hum?”

He nods once, eyes locked to yours.

“It’s a beautiful sound. I can hear it from across a room.”

Your heart does this soft little flutter you can’t control.

“What does it mean when someone hums?”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“It means they’re alive. And they care. And that they’re full of something they don’t know how to say out loud yet.”

You roll onto your side, one arm under your head. He follows your movement, mirroring you.

“Cas,” you say softly, “do you know what love feels like?”

His brows draw together. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

You try to smile, even though something about the answer feels like a small ache beneath your ribs.

He studies your face like it holds the answer to everything.

“But I think...” he begins, voice barely louder than the breeze, “if it’s love... it might be this.”

“This?”

“You,” he says simply. “Your voice when you explain things. Your laughter when I misunderstand them. Your patience. The way you show me the world like you want me to fall in love with it.”

You blink quickly, and then a breath catches in your throat.

“And the way I feel,” he adds, his voice unsteady now, “when you leave the room. Like I’ve misplaced something vital.”

You don’t speak.

You just reach for his hand in the grass and twine your fingers between his.

It’s a little awkward—he’s not used to it—but he holds on tightly. Like he means it.

“Maybe this is love,” he whispers. “If you want it to be.”

You nod.

“I do.”

Then you lean in and kiss him—soft and slow beneath a sky of ancient stars. His lips are unsure but eager, his hand trembling just slightly where it cups your cheek.

It’s his first kiss.

You can feel it.

When you pull back, breathless and smiling, he looks at you like he just witnessed a miracle. Like you are the miracle.

“I think I’m learning,” he says.

“You’re doing better than most humans I know,” you whisper back.

And right then, under the infinite sky, you swear—he hums.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

#castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel fluff #castiel fic #castiel spn #castiel novak #supernatural #.docx

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softspiderling · 17 hours ago

Text

illicit affairs - part eleven

summary:

“You’re joking, right? You’ve never been interested in a real relationship and you talk to this girl for five minutes and suddenly you’re ready to settle down?” you snorted and Rafe glanced over at you, his eyes finding yours.

“Sometimes a risk is worth the reward, Precious.”

OR; you reap what you sow

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: kinda emotional damaging, idk what to tell you

word count: 2,4k

author’s note: okay so full psa I did kinda tear up a bit while writing this, but I'm also insanely sensitive so it doesn't have to mean anything idk lmfao I just wanted to warn you beforehand. either way, this chapter also is heavily inspired by is it over now by Taylor swift so do with that info what you will. hope you enjoy it my lovelies <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. eleven: “look at this idiotic fool that you made me”

“He is smitten with you, girl. You’re blind if you don’t see that.”

The words kept echoing in your head, even after the dark had settled over Nassau, even as you stood in line for the new club Kelce was raving about where you just had to go. You, Rafe and Topper knew better than to fight Kelce about this, so you all just agreed to go, especially because you had promised him earlier that day. You severely regretted that promise now, absolutely not in the right head to go clubbing.

The woman’s words made you question your entire friendship with Rafe. Had he been feeling the same way all along? Were you just to blind to see the signs? Or was that just some sales ploy, to get you to buy more?

“Hey, come on Precious.”

“What?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, as Rafe waved you forward. Without realizing, the line had moved and you were holding it up. Quickly, you joined your friends and Rafe furrowed his brows at you.

“You good?”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you tried to play it off. “Yeah, sorry. Just didn’t think it would take us this long to getting into a club.”

“Right right, precious is used to skipping the line,” Topper said with a nod, and you swatted his arm, grinning.

“Shut up, Top.”

“I promise it’s gonna be worth it,” Kelce said, looking over the heads of the people who were standing in line in front of you. “Only like, five more groups before we get to go in.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Rafe deadpanned and Kelce elbowed him as you laughed.

The time passed quickly as you waited, mostly spent with making fun of Kelce. When the bouncer finally gestured for you inside, the breath nearly stocked in your throat.

“Oh my god, I can barely even move.”

“It’s great, isn’t it!”

At least that was what you assumed Kelce said. It was so loud, you could barely hear yourself speak, let alone anyone else. You moved towards the bar, where you quickly claimed one of the last free stools, the boys crowding around you. Kelce’s head bopped to the music, clearly feeling it.

“Let’s go dance!”

“I need another drink for that,” Rafe snorted, while Topper nodded in agreement, Kelce’s eyes falling on you. You glanced over to the packed dance floor, then back to Kelce, who stretched his hand out to you.

“Come on, Precious.”

A dance wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would shake out your nerves. Distract you.

“Fine,” you sighed, taking Kelce’s hand and he didn’t even waste a second to drag you towards the dance floor.

“Get me a drink!” you shouted over your shoulder to Rafe and Topper, who only gave you a nod, watching in amusement, but they soon disappeared behind dancing bodies.

You turned back to Kelce, who must have found a decent spot to dance in because he twirled you around, making you laugh, holding onto him when you finally stood straight again. The two of you quickly found your groove, moving to the loud music that was blasting through the speakers. You lost yourself in the music, your worries melting away as you only focused on the rhythm and the beat, that was so loud, you could feel it in your heart.

It wasn’t long until people started to edge closer to you, hoping for a change to share a dance or two. Kelce was quick to weed out the people, especially the ones who were coming up behind you. He seemed to approve of one guy, because he eagerly nodded at you, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Glancing over your shoulder, you could tell that the guy was cute, even with the strobing lights, his dark hair curling over his forehead and he had a nice smile. He just wasn’t Rafe.

You didn’t know how to tell Kelce nor this guy that you really weren’t interested, so you just let him dance behind you, what was the harm in one dance?

Kelce gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up, his focus quickly averted when a guy came up behind him, giving him a charming smile, and you could tell he was definitely Kelce’s type. They quickly melted into one, with the way they were dancing and you tried not to grin, happy that Kelce could forget about Malcolm, even if it was for only one night.

You really should take a page out of his book, but alas, you were just a girl.

“I think I need some air,” you told the guy behind you, offering him an apologetic smile. “Thanks for the dance!”

The guy seemed to take the hint, nodding at you with a small smile before you slipped through an opening in the crowd, trying to find your way off the dance floor. The bar was crowded, making it hard to try to spot Topper and Rafe. Craning your head, you finally found Rafe at the side of the bar, Topper nowhere to be seen.

Rafe’s back was towards you as you approached him, so you reached out to tap his shoulder.

“Hey, Rafe I-” the rest of your sentence got lost in your throat when he turned to you, revealing a pretty girl by his side. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”

“Hey Precious,” Rafe greeted you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, so you were standing face to face with the girl, introducing you. “This is my best friend.”

“Hi, I’m Kayla,” the girl said with a bright smile, whereas yours was tight, forced, still trying to process what was happening.

The rest of their conversation passed you by like a blur, honest to god, you didn’t even want to hear what they were saying, but before you knew it, they bid their good byes. When Kayla disappeared from sight, you looked up at Rafe, and you wish you hadn’t.

He was still looking at the spot where Kayla had left.

You were a fucking fool.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to cockblock you,” you said, slipping out from under his arm, taking a sip from the cocktail that stood on the counter next to Rafe. It was strong, lots of rum, but that was exactly what you needed right now. If you were lucky, it’d make you forget the whole night.

“Cockblock me?” Rafe echoed, amused. “How do you know she only wanted to fuck?”

You took another huge sip of your drink because you were in no way drunk enough for this.

“Isn’t that why people talk to other people in a club? To get laid?”

“Think she wanted more than a hook up,” Rafe replied, lifting a piece of paper between his finger tips. You could only make out a row of digits before your eyes flitted to Rafe’s.

“You took her number?”

“She gave it to me.”

Scoffing, you drank the last of your cocktail, pushing the empty glass away from you, which Rafe eyed cautiously.

“You tossed that back in record time, precious, are you okay?” he asked, rubbing your back. You knew he meant well, he always did. But his gesture made you feel like a fucking kid, so you shrugged his hand off.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, annoyed. And because you couldn’t let it go, you asked: “Since when are you interested in anything else but a hook up?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a step away from you, reaching for his beer. “I don’t know. Guess I can see now what’s so apppealing about it.”

“Sometimes a risk is worth the reward, Precious.”

His eyes seemed to bore into yours, so you turned away, staring at the wall behind the bar.

“Just… whatever.”

You just had to ask, didn’t you?

You gripped the counter, your hands starting to shake. To your horror, you could feel tears welling up and you quickly dipped your head, in an attempt to hide your face. Really, here? Just because this girl seemed to have left such an impression on Rafe that he could imagine being in a relationship? With her? While all you, his best friend, were good for was a good fuck?

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Rafe shoving his beer on the counter, his hand coming up on your waist.

“Precious-”

Nope.

“Sorry, bathroom,” you pressed out, pushing away from the bar to flee towards the bathroom. The door hit the wall, since you basically kicked it open, nearly scaring the girl inside half to death, but you didn’t care. You pressed yourself against the wall, forehad resting against the cold tiles of the bathroom, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

How could you be so stupid? Here you were, having sex with your best friend because you told yourself, this. This was the only way you could have him, a relationship was never in the cards, because he just didn’t do them. Well, turned out he did. Just not with you.

You couldn’t believe you let a stranger’s words affect you like that, make yourself hope, that you could ever be more than just his best friend.

The girl came up behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You good girl?”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head.

“No. No I’m not.”

Someone crown you the biggest fucking idiot on the island.

The next day, you still felt like an idiot. If it were up to you, you’d be on the next flight home, but how would you explain that to your friends? It was just one more day, before you’d go home. You could last a day.

Luckily, Rafe seemed to think your behavior was due to the cocktail you had just poured back. He was waiting in front of the bathroom when you had come out, thinking you had thrown up.

If only he knew.

“You sure you can do boats right now?” Rafe asked, peering at you over his sun glasses. You were tempted to say no. “We could just go do something else, you and me.”

Yeah, that was not gonna happen.

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you sighed, leaning back against the cushioned seat, your blue dress flaring out.

“You know, I get Precious getting to sit back and look pretty, but why are you not helping us?” Kelce asked, shoving the cooler on the floor. He and Topper had been walking back and forth on the marina, carrying food and drinks onto the boat.

Rafe shrugged, reaching for a beer in the cooler. “Well, how about the fact that this is my boat?”

“Told you not to bring it up,” Topper huffed, putting the two bags full of food on the table. “I knew he’d come up with some excuse.”

“Whatever,” Kelce grumbled, snatching the beer right out of Rafe’s hand before he could even get a drop.

Topper plopped down on the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “How’re you Precious?”

You threw a look at him. Out of the three boys, you knew Topper didn’t quite buy the whole “I drank too much” act.

“Fine,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, clearly not in the mood to elaborate. Rafe picked up on your tone, turning around to slap Topper on his cap.

“Hey, leave her alone.”

Topper pulled a face at him, but Rafe didn’t notice as he already turned away to start the engine, taking the boat out of the marina into the sea.

Despite your realizations from the previous night, you had a great time. You mostly pushed those thoughts away, trying to spend time with your best friends, because that was what they were, right? That was what Rafe was, first and foremost.

The sun had already started to set by the time you got back to the marina, the street lights flickering on.

“I’m gonna go pick up some food asap,” Kelce said, immediately getting off the boat. “I am starving.”

“I’ll get rid of the trash,” Topper said, yawning into his shoulder as he picked up the food wrappers, empty bottles and cans, collecting them in a bag, disappearing onto the pier as well.

You helped Rafe tie the boat, taking everything down, as it was gonna be a while again before someone used it.

“Think that’s it,” he said, throwing a look over the boat, and you gave him a thumbs up, ready to get back on land.

Suddenly his phone went off a couple of times, screen down on the console. It had been going off a lot today, you had noticed him on his phone a few times, but never really questioned it. At least you tried not to.

“Someone’s popular today,” you teased. “Who is it?”

Rafe shrugged, turning off the engine of the boat, ignoring his phone as it pinged once again.

“Oh come on,” you whined, reaching for his phone. “The least you can do is-“

Kaylas’s name flashed across the screen multiple times.

“-text back.”

You swallowed thickly, before you dangled his phone in front of him. “You texted her already?”

“I was bored.”

Rafe grabbed his phone from you, slipping it into his pocket, you barely put up a fight. Even though you had seen this coming a mile away, it still hurt.

“So you’re really serious about this wanting a relationship thing, huh?” you asked and Rafe lifted his head, looking at you.

“Yeah.”

You cleared your throat, nodding your head quickly. This was your own fault. You wanted too much, putting yourself in a position where you knew you’d get hurt.

Was it over then?

“Is it over now?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you nodded, forcing a snort. “If you wanna get to know her for real, you shouldn’t be messing around with your best friend.”

“Right.”

Rafe’s voice was curt and you gave him a smile. “Let me know how that thing with Kayla goes,” you said, squeezing his arm before you turned your back to him, getting off the boat.

As your foot stepped onto the pier, your heart felt a little tight, as if someone had their fist around it. But the further you walked away from the boat, the freer you felt.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: feel free (like Precious LOL too early?) to come into my inbox hehehe I wanna know how you feel

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe Cameron fanfiction #rafe Cameron fanfic #rafe Cameron fic #drew starkey #obx

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luvyeni · 2 days ago

Text

hot boys and xannies ๑. ( 正太郎 - 성찬 )

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──── your relationship with sungchan and shotaro ran on partying; drinking until you passed out, mind numbing sex.

( 対 ) osaki shotaro and jung sungchan + fem. reader wc. 1.8k genre smut · contains! drug usage , threesome , unprotected sex , oral ( m ) , name calling , lowkey toxic mature content. / back to library

your relationship with sungchan and shotaro ran on partying; drinking until you passed out, mind numbing sex. and what you thought was the foundation of your little throuple; drugs … xanax to be exact. was there love there? maybe; possibly , the three of you didn’t know , you were too fucked up to even notice half the time.

“god there are so many fine looking men in here tonight.” your friend held your hand as you walked through the crowds of people in the very familiar house. “i’m definitely going home with one tonight.” you shook your head. “are you going home with someone tonight? or are your boyfriends here tonight.” rolling your eyes. “they’re not my boyfriends.” you said. “we just you know , have fun.” you shrugged , the three of you never discussed what you were , you were just you guys. “whatever it is you know they’re utterly obsessed with you.” you smiled. “that’s the way it should be.”

the two of you quickly found a drink; drowning it down before grabbing a new one, making your way down to the dance floor. “is eunseok single?” she asked. “probably i don’t know.” you said. “doubt that has stop him before.” taking a sip of your drink. “shit it’s gonna stop me , i don’t need someone kicking his apartment door down trying to kill me because of his unfaithfulness.” you took a sip of your drink — a hand slowly working it’s way around your waist. “your fucking ass is showing.” you smirked hearing the boy's voice deep voice in your ear. “who’s attention are you trying to gain?”

you turned around, now facing the boys. “what’s it to you?” he scoffed. “sungchan you and your boyfriend are gonna steal my friend so early in the night again?” your friend asked. “we have room for one more if you want.” you elbowed him , he groaned. “ow fuck.” your friend laughed , knowing you were a bit territorial about them even though you claimed not to be. “i’m a one man girl.” she said. “eunseok being the one she has her eyes on tonight.” you said. “oh he has a girlfriend.” sungchan said she said sighed dramatically. “but wonbin is free , he’s over there.” he pointed , his arm still resting on your waist. “he has a lot of shit too tonight , get on his good side and you might get it for free.” and that was your friend's queue.

“poor wonbin she’s gonna eat him alive.” you said , turning to him with a sour look on your face. “we have room for one more?” you mocked him. “what?” he said , you removed his arms from you, walking away. “i was joking.” he followed. “come on, don't be like that.” he grabbed you , wrapping his arm back around your waist. “where is he?” you asked, he pointed upstairs. “you know he doesn’t do the partying thing , he throws them so him and wonbin can make a profit , who to supply drugs to but dumb drunk young adults who want to try anything.” he said. “and you know he’s not too keen on meeting new girls , although i don’t think he’ll be pleased knowing his favorite girl was walking around here with her half her ass out.” his hand resting on your bum. “might just end this party to fuck you right where you stand.”

“well then let’s just keep that between us then huh?” he tapped his chin like he was fake thinking. “i don’t know, i like seeing you in tears when doesn’t let you cum.” he gave your ass a harsh squeeze. “beside who says i’m not pissed you’re out here flaunting your pretty ass to every dude here hm?” he said. “let’s go upstairs then , maybe i can make it up to you.” you took his hand , guiding upstairs to where you were sure the other boy was.

shotaro sat on the bed , waiting for the two of you to make your way to his room. “what the fuck took you two so long?” he asked the moment the door opened. “took a minute to find our precious girl here , too busy flaunting her ass with her friend.” you turned to him. “traitor.” he smiled. “i don’t expect anything less from our little slut.” you took your heels off , throwing them somewhere , making your way over to him , plopping righting down in his lap with a innocent smile. “can you believe everything he says.” you turn to the tall boy. “he’s never been known to tell the truth.”

shotaro chuckled , whereas sungchan scoffed. “that is also true, but the way you were so quick to give me those innocent eyes tells me everything.” his hand resting on your thigh , making his way up. “that and the fact this dress is so fucking short i can see your pretty red panties on display.” he said cupping your cunt. “t-taro.” you moaned. “you love pissing me off don’t you.” you pouted. “i wore this just for you two and for what?”

“then you wear it when it’s just us three, not a party full of people.” sungchan said, pulling himself off the wall , gripping your chin , making you look at him. “you want it?” you nodded , he looked at shotaro , who nodded. “made sure to save three just for us , you know how hard that is , so many people want this.” he took the small tin can containing the addicting pills out his pocket , taking one out , before putting it on his tongue; handing it to sungchan. “see how i always care for you.” sungchan took a pill out putting it on his tongue, before taking the last one out. “stick your tongue out.” you obeyed and he grabbed your chin , putting the pill on your tongue. “swallow it.” he said swallowing his. “good girl.”

the three of you got comfortable on the bed waiting for the high to kick in; meaning you found yourself in the middle of the boys as they both fought for you attention basically , sucking on the sweet spots on your neck , feeling up your body. “fu-fuck.” you moaned as they squeezed your boobs , shotaros hand pulling up your dress. “such a pretty dress , too bad it’s gonna be ruined by time this is over.” you heard a rip of your panties. “oops.” sungchan said with a smirk. “fucking ass— ah fuck!” shotaro gave your cunt a slap. “watch your mouth.”

he pushed a finger inside of you and by then the high was slowly sinking in , your body feeling lighter. “that was quick.” he saw your pupils change. “much faster this time.” his eyes were much lazier. “fuck i can’t take this anymore.” shotaro , who was probably already high when you walked in , but the pill just enhanced it. “i need to take this fucking dress off of you.” he pulled you up , roughly pulling the dress off of you , but you didn’t mind , it only made you wetter. “turn around.”

sungchan watched with his cock in his hand , stroking it next to your face as shotaro pushed himself inside of you. “fuck look at you , high as a kite and drooling over cock.” he laughed , grabbing your hair , tapping his cock against your lips. “come on, open up like you open up for a pill.” sticking your tongue out , he pushed himself inside , stuffing your mouth full. “oh shit there we go.” he moaned as your head bobbed up and down. “such a good little whore , sucking my cock like that.” he groaned. “fuuuuuck.”

shotaros grip on your ass tightened as he pounded into you; his thrust were a bit sloppy due to his high , but it didn’t even matter ; he still felt good moving in and out of you , your velvety walls squeezing him like a vice. “ugh fuck , fuck your cunt is so fucking tight.” pushing your back into a deeper arch , sungchans head still on your head , both of them using your body for their own pleasures. “such a fucking whore , our own personal cockslut we have here.”

you moaned around sungchan cock , his hips bucking up. “only good for being used as a fleshlight yeah , getting high and -fuck- taking dicks like a champ.” you gagged around his length. “that’s it choke on my fucking dick , fuck i’m gonna cum.” he let out a deep grunt , cock twitching as he shot ropes of cum down your throat , some spilling out of your month. “such a messy cockdrunk slut.” he gave your face a light slap.

pushing his fingers into your mouth ; your swollen lips wrapped around his fingers. “you wanna cum?” he asked , you nodded. “you think you deserve it?” you moaned. “taro, man you think she deserves it?” he asked the older boy. “fuck she better hurry , because i’m about to cum.” sungchan pulled his fingers out of your mouth , grabbing your hair , yanking it. “fucking cum.” and just like that you were cumming. “ah , fuck fuck fuck!” you squealed , legs shaking. “shit gonna cum.” shotaro grunted. “gonna cum inside you.” he warned , cumming shortly after.

you felt like you were on cloud nine; laying in shotaros bed , staring up at the ceiling , smoke filling the air from the blunt in shotaros hand ; your naked body hidden under the covers as her held the blunt to your lips letting you take a drag. “slow down.” he said , sungchan spoke up. “would’ve thought the pill was enough , you had to add weed to it , like the true druggie you are.” you rolled your eyes. “keep rolling them and i’m gonna give you a reason to roll them.”

“do it then.” shotaro let out a chuckle seeing the tall boys jaw clench; he put out the joint. “you should know better than to try her when she’s under the influence.” he said , sungchan scoffed while you smirk. “okay , get the fuck up then.” he manhandled you into his lap. “let’s see if you can ride my cock while like this.” he gripped your cheeks. “don’t look for my help either” you yelped as he slapped your ass. “now ride my fucking cock slut.”

you turned to shotaro who just shrugged , his eyes barely open. “don’t look to me baby , you also should know not to try him when he gets high.”

“better hope he lets you cum this time.”

©️LUVYENI

#shotaro oneshot #osaki shotaro x reader #shotaro smut #shotaro x reader #shotaro hard thoughts #shotaro hard hours #sungchan hard thoughts #sungchan x reader #sungchan hard hours #sungchan smut #riize hard hours #riize hard thoughts #riize smut #riize x reader #riize x imagine #riize fic #riize fanfic

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rubyrose143 · 2 days ago

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Hirano and Kagiura

„To all the haters out there, I just wanna say, if you’re jealous then just go cry about it“ - Amy Flamy

I wanted to do this thread now to end the forced hate towards hrkg.

So lean back and enjoy cause it’s gonna be MUCH 😉 (I’m their lawyer haha)

some information before I start:

Hirano and Kagiura are two roommates who live in the same dormitory and attend the same school. Hirano is one year older and on the disciplinary committee and Kagi is on the basketball team.

Let’s start 😁

We all know Hirano and Kagiura have a special bond since the first time they met! Kagi is really fond of Hirano and Hirano is really attached to Kagi.

Both are really direct and stubborn people, nice and caring but also loud and straight forward! But even when there are points where they are really similar, there are things where they aren’t similar, at all. In fact how they love a person is different and that’s what I’m going to show you.

„Hirano doesn’t love Kagi and never will, because he doesn’t feel romantic/ intimate feelings towards him. He does that to satisfy Kagiura“

Reeeeeeeaaaaallllllyyy? Wow this is interesting. So love means intimacy?Hmm… I seee.

So Kagiura didn’t love Hirano before the temple too because he didn’t had the urge to kiss him nor to touch him? Miyano didn’t like Sasaki too because he didn’t know if kissing was okay?

Love is something complex, something big and complicated. Love doesn’t mean: „Crush, blush, date, marry, sex, children“

No. If you love someone you want to be with them, you care about them, you miss them, you want to help them, support them in every little situation.

And both Hirano AND Kagi care about each other more than anyone else

Hirano always cared about Kagi, thinking about if he ate or practiced, if he’s fine and not overworking himself.

After the confession where he turned him down, even THEN he cared about his feelings, thinking if it’s okay to wear the earrings he has gotten from his kouhai.

He lets them try things out (the ten seconds) to see if he can see him as a potential partner

And the courage to say that Kagi forces Hirano to do thing he doesn’t want is just straight up absurd. Kagi always sticks to the line and never breaks his boundaries.. Even when he did cross the line even a little, he felt guilty and apologized immediately, thinking about it for days! And Hirano hates it when Kagi avoids him and TELLS him to do it (madly… and loud…)

And Hirano doing this all to satisfy Kagiura because he could never love him is also just stupid. When Miyano wanted time to see if he can see Sasaki as a romantic partner, did we say he won’t love Sasaki? No… but fine let’s say Hirano and Kagi won’t get together cause why not? (sigh)

How Niibashi said, Hirano is on his journey to fall in love. He is realizing things like, he does like Kagiura and he doesn’t dislike touching (if he initiates it) he wasn’t this far few chapters ago. Hirano never had thoughts about romantic relationships and people are all stereotypical about romance. Let the boy experience his own emotions. If he doesn’t like things, that’s fine, if he does like things that’s fine too. But stop being so pushy and try to make everything about stereotypes. Sensei‘s work was never like that. She doesn’t even like to use things like Uke and seme, she writes a story about boys who love each other. And isn’t that why we read this? So why make everything negative just because you don’t like it. If you don’t like hrkg or ssmy, don’t read it and don’t take the joy of the people who do love it.

And also, Kagi is right, sometimes love isn’t pink and beautiful, sometimes it hurts

Because love is sometimes suffering, longing, guilt and missing.

And I use the words ‚sometimes‘ really often because it’s different for every couple and pair all around the world. Everyone loves different! Just because hrkg‘s relationship is like that, doesn’t mean ssmy‘s is like that. Just because ssmy‘s relationship is like that, doesn’t mean hrkg‘s relationship is like that (And both couples are healthy and perfect in their own ways)

Hirano and Kagiura have a great relationship

Supporting each other

Caring about each other

missing each other

thinking about each other

appreciating each other

And that’s what you call ‚love‘. It’s a pure feeling. Intimacy comes muuuuchhhhhh later (sometimes). We don’t know if Hirano will be ready in one chapter, in five chapters or in fifteen chapters! And that’s not our problem anyway.

How Kagiura said, for him love means wanting to be with someone more than anyone else, and Hirano feels the same way.

Kagiura is faster in wanting things cause he had a previous relationship where he didn’t want any of this so he can compare both feelings.

So he is sure this one has to be Love.

In the end they care about each other more than anyone else. Support each other more than anyone else.

Enjoy being with each other more than with anyone else.

And love each other more than anyone else, cause they are their favorite/ most important persons in each others life.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of Hirano and Kagiura which still has a looooong way to go.

And we fans are always gonna be here no matter what! So for all the people who still hate and comment, please, go read Hirano to Kagiura AND Sasaki to Miyano again, thanks!

Thanks for reading this! I worked on this for many days! Let’s spread this and make the haters go away! 💚💛

#hirano to kagiura #hirakagi #hirano and kagiura #hirano taiga #kagihira #kagiura akira #hrkg #kghr #shou harusono #sasaki to miyano #i love u sensei #love #For all the haters out there #hanzawa masato #Gotta spread this to make the haters go away!

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moonlight-prose · 2 days ago

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i feel like I’ve been ignoring my boy so what do you think about hello/goodbye hugs that linger + joaquín torres?

who knows why?

a/n: this request has sat in my drafts for so long i can't remember when you sent it. but the yearning i had for torres in 2021/2022 has come back tenfold. and of course it had to be another friends to lovers arc. i always feel as if he's the perfect character for something this soft. plus you and i both know he's just that one friend you end up falling for after years of denying it. (i listened to DtMF to capture all those emotions needed.)

summary: the orders came in quicker than you wanted to accept. a place far enough to drag you from the friends made and family found. but when the time to say goodbye arises feelings begin to bleed through.

word count: 1.8k+

pairing: joaquin torres x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, goodbyes that are painful, joaquin is hopelessly in love, friends to lovers, teasing as best friends do, angst (because it's who i am), goodbyes.

The years were cruel to a soul that ached. Time that passed with fluid ease around someone stagnant—trapped against their will. Emotions tangled in a web that clung to their heart became a companion you were familiar with, a friend that complied to its own decisions. Wild. Untamed. Unpredictable in the face of everyone…especially him.

“I could go with you.” He fixed himself to the door frame, arms crossed and body stiff, as noise echoed behind him.

They were taking shots in the kitchen. Pre-gaming the final night out before they were handed mission orders. You could practically taste the cheap vodka from your perch on the bed—the pungent scent of lime chasers wafting through the open door. The night was meant to be filled with ease. Bar hopping, a club on the off chance it wasn’t spilling out with people, and early morning pancakes to curb the hangover.

All before the inevitable goodbyes.

The bitten back tears and watery smiles. The raspy promises of next times that would turn into almosts and unsure possibilities. You loathed that which couldn’t be stopped. A half filled life with friends who were found further away each year you tried to find them.

“You can’t go with me,” you sighed, wiping at the shitty eyeliner that never seemed to stick. “Wherever they put me is where I have to be. No friends allowed.”

A curl of his lips ensnared you—pulling at the fragments and tendrils of a heart that couldn’t take much more. “I could call Sam. Get him to do me a favor.”

“Nice,” you drawled. “Calling Captain America just to bug me wherever I wind up.”

“You can’t say you don’t enjoy me bugging you muñeca.”

“Never said I don’t.”

“You implied it.”

“Estas loco.”

“I’m not-”

A shrill overbearing voice you would know anywhere simply by the way Joaquin tensed as she stumbled down the hall—a half empty can of something you couldn’t read clutched in her sticky hand. “You’re gonna save me a dance tonight Torres.”

You dug your teeth into the side of your cheek, busying yourself with a mascara wand. Somehow her flirting always resembled a threat, but you speculated it was the twisting of your pulsating heart that told it differently. Joaquin was always one to appear polite. Saying yes in the face of those who would overlook how his brown eyes turned sharp. Piercing to the gut of whoever pushed him too far.

Hope flourished like a maddening inkling—another piece added to a forever half finished picture—when he shuffled away from her. You were insane to cling to it. Something so small even as he appeased her drunken pleas for more than just awkward conversations.

“Yeah…” You dug a nail into the palm of your hand, swallowing the ache that formed like a stone at the bottom of your empty stomach. “We could probably do that.”

The pleading gaze he threw your way went overlooked for the eyeliner that still had to be applied. A mundane task to distract from the way he was dragged out of the room, a raucous cheer of friends welcoming him back into the fray. He wasn’t yours to keep from the fun. Certainly not someone you could place a claim over after years of friendship—the hope of something more diminishing with every passing year.

You couldn’t delude yourself into believing things would change. The orders were pinned on your board to be taken in the morning, a harsh slap of reality placed upon the life you might never have. But you could accept that. Getting your first post wasn’t meant to be tangled with a man, especially your best friend.

So you’d grin and bear it. A familiar action you were used to submerging yourself into.

“Vamos!” Your friend shouted, giving you just enough time to grab your phone before they shuffled out into the front yard.

Orange lights blinded you the second you crossed the club’s threshold—flashing with the rhythm of the music. Everyone dispersed before you could ask what the plan was, leaving you to stumble after them. Three vanished into the throng of people on the dance floor, loud music blaring a reggaeton song you recognized from years ago. The bar was crowded, people packed into such a small space—the alcohol flowing with ease given the summer heat.

“Lost?”

You jumped, Joaquin’s hands steadying you in the heels that stuck to a tequila layered floor. “I think we’ve been ditched.”

“More fun this way,” he shouted over the music. “Means we don’t have to babysit.”

“I’d say we can get drunk, but…”

He nodded, palms slipping into yours. “I dance better sober.”

“I doubt that!” you laughed.

“Oh that’s how it’s gonna be? Mírame.” Yanking you close enough to avoid getting stepped on, he twirled you into a familiar two step. Muscle memory snapping to attention the closer he got—his touch sliding to grab at the fabric around your hips.

Dancing with Joaquin felt like home. A familiar realm of comfort that finally gave you the chance to fall into his touch—your body melting into the fast beat of the song. There wasn’t much room to move, people crowded in until they spilled out the front doors, but you ignored it for the favor of having him close. The heady scent of his cologne and sweat coated your senses, blinding you to the cheap tequila you could practically taste off everyone else.

Someone rammed into your back, elbow knocking the wind out of your lungs. “Fresh air?”

His hand clasped over yours. “Way ahead of you.”

Nearly getting hit in the head by two men spinning their girls had Joaquin dragging you quick enough to trip you. His body acting as the barrier for such a large crowd—stepping into the role of protector until you were no longer around to need him.

How could you explain that to lose him would rip the ground beneath you usually steady feet? That to leave him was destroying the very gravity that held you firm on the ground.

“I won’t miss this place,” you muttered, sucking in a lungful of crisp air until the burn spread across your chest. “Too many fucking people.”

He grinned, thumb catching the thrumming vein along your wrist. “It’s not so bad.”

“Well…no. It’s never bad with you.”

“That right?” Lips pulled into a smirk you’d seen a thousand times over, mischief screaming in eyes that bored into yours.

“Cochino! I wasn’t thinking that way.” Yet even as you said the words you laughed. For the simple reason that he was your favorite person, your small slice of joy on days that offered that all too familiar shadow of darkness.

He laughed and your heart lit up on the inside, the agony of leaving, the grief of losing him, dissipating while you stood in his shine. Such a small thing to miss but even as you realized it you knew that not a day would go by where you wouldn’t miss everything about him. Small pieces of your life scattered into memories you wished you could pick up.

What you wouldn’t give to have taken more photos.

To solidify his image in ink and tie it to your heart.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he admitted, the cool breeze washing over you. “Gonna miss you.”

“Yeah…”

Tonight you wouldn’t tell him. Not when the hours were still young and the orders that hung like a cloud over your head were nonexistent until morning. So you chose the easy route—push for more time, make whatever this was exist in the present for as long as you could live in it. For your sanity…and his.

“Coffee?”

He smiled, squeezing your hand. “Absolutely.”

“You got everything?”

Dropping the bag, you watched people in a similar uniform shuffle onto an already tightly packed plane. “I think so.”

“You sure? Can’t forget the snacks or headphones for the pendejos who snore or-”

“Joaquin.”

“And make sure you snag a good seat. Don’t sit close to the bathroom. Trust me-”

“Joaquin,” you snapped. “You’re acting like your mother.”

His hands covered your face before you could grab them, pushing your head back with a snort. “And? She knew her shit.”

That much you knew to be true. Nights spent crowded around a small kitchen table, homework scattered beneath heavy plates weighted down with arroz con carne, salsa smeared on the corners of what was once perfectly lined notebook pages. Days splayed out in his backyard, the sun scorching your skin as he played football with his cousins. Music blasting from shitty speakers in his room, a fan going high enough to kill the lights in the whole house.

Life that you’d give anything to go back to. Moments you had seared on your skin, burned behind closed eyelids. You could taste the salt from esquites bought down the street—a frozen Gatorade stuffed in the back of his fridge for days his practice with soccer ran long.

He’d been the love of your life since you met him.

If only the two of you had figured it out sooner.

“I-” You sucked in a breath, hands curling into fists. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

Gathering you in a hug tight enough to pop the ache in your spine, he buried his face into the rough fabric on your shoulder. You did the same with his comfortable denim jacket—a piece of clothing you should have stolen long ago.

“We’ll see each other alright?”

You bit back the thick swell of tears. “Hopefully soon.”

“You forget,” he laughed. “I’ve got the favor of Cap on my side.”

“Don’t piss off Sam Wilson with visitation days okay?” you sighed, digging a hand into the soft curls at the base of his neck. “Just…go be a hero. I’ll make sure to tell everyone I know Falcon is my best friend.”

His smile pressed to your neck, hands tight around your waist. “Bueno. Someone has to know you’re cool.”

“Fuck off,” you sobbed.

Pulling away felt impossible. A feat you couldn’t have pulled off even if you held all the strength in the world. But his arms were loosening and his face was close to yours and suddenly you understood why people died for the meager touch of fleeting love. It would be so easy to kiss him, quicker than breathing. And yet…you watched as something flickered in his eyes.

Confirmation that your time would come; it just wasn’t right now.

“Good luck,” he murmured, swiping at the tears he could catch. “Until next time?”

You nodded, hand curling around his wrist. “Until next time.”

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres x y/n #joaquin torres #my writing

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coochieannihilator · 3 days ago

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Love in a Hopeless Place

Synopsis: "Fake" affection evolves into real chemistry, forcing Hiromi and you to confront hidden feelings.

Content: Hiromi Higuruma x F!Reader, Fake Dating, A bit ooc?

Word Count: 3.8k

The wine bar is the kind of place that people think is moodier than it is: low lights, deep booths, and overpriced charcuterie boards. You’re halfway through your glass of wine, fiddling with the rim of your glass, when your friend leans over the table with a giddy little smirk that instantly puts you on edge.

You sigh, tipping your head back. “This is either going to be a brilliant idea or a slow, painful descent into secondhand embarrassment.”

She grins. “You’ve met Hiromi before. It won’t be that awkward.”

You arch an eyebrow. “We’ve met like… three times. All at your birthday parties. He barely speaks. I’m not even sure he likes me.”

“You terrify him,” she says, not even trying to deny it. “Which is exactly why this’ll work.”

You’re about to respond when the door opens. You don’t need to be told it’s him—you just know.

“There he is,” she whispers.

You follow her gaze toward the door—and stop short.

Hiromi Higuruma walks in like he’s stepping into a courtroom. Smooth. Controlled. He wears that charcoal-gray suit like its armor, that fits like it was tailored for him this morning. His tie slightly loosened, just enough to suggest he’s been fighting deadlines and depositions all day. His hair’s a little messy in a way that almost feels intentional, and his eyes—sharp, thoughtful, with a tired kind of elegance behind them—scan the room like he’s doing a threat assessment.

Your friend sips her wine, looking pleased with herself. “You’re welcome.”

Hiromi spots your table, makes his way over with that quiet, deliberate stride of someone used to commanding rooms with silence alone. When he reaches you, he offers his hand, firm and steady.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is smooth, low, and polite—like velvet over a blade.

You shake his hand. “So formal. Are we closing a business deal or fake-dating?”

A small pause. His expression barely shifts, but you catch it—an almost-smile. “I like clarity in arrangements.”

You grin. “Great. Here’s mine: you pretend to be completely in love with me for one evening, and I’ll stop calling you ‘lawyer boy.’”

His eyes flick down to your hand before you let go, then back up to your face. “And what do I get if I’m too convincing?”

You blink. “What, like convincing people we’re actually together?”

“No.” His gaze is steady, unreadable. “Convincing you.”

Your friend coughs—chokes, really—into her drink, already sliding out of the booth with a hasty “I’m just gonna give you two a minute” before you can say anything, though you barely notice.

Because Hiromi Higuruma is still looking at you like this is a negotiation he intends to win.

You lean back, arms crossing loosely. “Do all your dates start like a cross-examination?”

His lips twitch. Just barely. “Do all your fake boyfriends come with legally binding clauses?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say. “Clause one: must be photogenic. Clause two: must make my ex question his life choices. Clause three: must not fall in love with me. It’s bad for the brand.”

Hiromi hums thoughtfully. “Clause three might be hard.”

There’s that silence again—comfortable and electric at once. You hate how interesting he is already. You hate it more that you want to see what happens if you keep pushing.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re awfully confident for someone who hasn’t even flirted properly yet.”

He leans forward just slightly, voice dropping lower. “You haven’t even seen me try.”

Your pulse flutters and somewhere in the background, jazz hums through the speakers like it knows exactly what’s happening.

You narrow your eyes. “So are you now flirting with me, or are you just incredibly good at playing pretend?”

“I’m incredibly good at reading people,” he replies. “And you’re enjoying this.”

You are. Way more than you should be.

“So,” he says, with a calmness that feels like mischief. “When’s the wedding?”

You swirl the last of your wine, pretending not to notice how Hiromi watches you over the rim of his glass like he’s studying your tells. His drink of choice is whiskey—of course it is. Neat. No garnish, no ice. The man is a walking contradiction: polished but understated, intimidating but—annoyingly—kind of charming when he wants to be.

“It’s next Saturday,” you say finally, setting your glass down. “A lovely garden wedding where I get to sit across from my ex, his perfect new girlfriend, and pretend my heart isn’t shriveled like a week-old grape.”

Hiromi doesn’t flinch. “And you think bringing a stranger with a law degree will help.”

“I think showing up with a man who looks like you will help,” you correct. “If we’re being honest.”

That almost-smile flickers again, fleeting but real. “So I’m set dressing.”

“You’re stagecraft,” you say smoothly. “Very convincing stagecraft.”

He leans back in the booth, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the movement natural and confident in a way that makes you way too aware of how long his legs are. “And what’s my character, then? The doting boyfriend? The emotionally distant but devastatingly loyal one? The reformed bad boy?”

“Please don’t be emotionally distant,” you groan. “I’ve dated enough of those to start a support group.”

His gaze sharpens just a little. “Then what do you want me to be?”

The question lands heavier than it should. You don’t answer right away, eyes drifting to the condensation on your glass. He’s quiet, giving you space, but not looking away. He’s watching the way you think. Another lawyer habit, probably.

“I want someone who looks at me like I’m the best part of the room,” you say after a beat. “Even if it’s just pretend.”

Hiromi’s brow twitches. “That’s a very specific request.”

You smile, slow and sure. “I’m a very specific person.”

“I can work with that.”

And it’s the way he says it—so steady, so certain—that you actually feel a little warmth creep up your neck. You look down, trying to hide it, but he notices. Of course he notices.

“So what about you?” you ask, redirecting. “Why say yes to something this stupid?”

He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “Your friend said you needed help, and I don’t mind being useful.”

You blink. ‘That’s… surprisingly earnest.’ “That’s very noble of you.”

“It’s not,” he says, and his voice dips a little—lower, more careful. “I like helping people when I know how. And pretending? That’s just acting, and acting is easy.”

You tilt your head. “Relationships aren’t.”

“No,” he agrees. “But lying is.”

There’s a pause. Something about the way he says it makes you wonder what kind of lies he’s had to live with. What truths he’s buried under all that careful composure, though you don’t ask.

Instead, you lean forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Alright then, counselor. Let’s get our story straight.”

“Hmm?”

“If we’re going to fool a bunch of emotionally stunted wedding guests, we need a backstory. How’d we meet?”

Hiromi thinks for a moment, then gives you a dry, straight-faced answer: “You sued me.”

You snort into your drink. “Okay, that’s too believable.”

“And yet you still fell for me,” he says, unblinking.

‘Damn, he’s good at this.’

“Oh? Confident, are we?”

“No,” Hiromi says, and this time when he smiles—really smiles—it’s slow and surprising and just the tiniest bit shy. “I just think I’ll have an easier time faking it than I expected.”

And suddenly, the whole fake-dating idea doesn’t feel quite so fake.

The reception was golden in a way that made everything look softer than it really was. Lights strung across the ceiling cast a gentle haze over the room, catching on sequins and champagne flutes, blurring out imperfections. It was the kind of beauty designed to be photographed—curated, polished, perfect.

You belonged to it like it was your element.

Hiromi watched you from a distance, half-hidden near the bar, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other held a drink he hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. His tie was slightly loose, collar unbuttoned, and he looked every bit like someone who didn’t quite belong here, but you did. Damn, you did.

You were standing near the flower arch with your friends, laughing as someone tried to get the perfect group shot. Your dress shimmered with the movement—light catching on delicate fabric in a way that made you glow. You threw your head back laughing at something one of them said, and Hiromi felt it somewhere deep in his ribs, like a tug.

You weren’t even trying to be beautiful. That’s what made it worse, or better, or impossible.

Someone told you to look over your shoulder for the next shot. You did—smiling just slightly, lips parted, eyes narrow—and Hiromi’s grip tightened around his glass. The kind of smile that didn’t belong in photographs. The kind meant to be seen in private, from close up. The kind you remembered even after you’d sworn to forget.

He didn’t even realize you caught him staring until the photo snapped and you turned, holding his gaze for a second too long. Something passed between you two—acknowledgement, maybe, or an invitation.

Minutes later, you wandered over to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Barefoot now, heels dangling from your fingers. You were a little breathless, a little hot on the cheeks, and your hair had started to come undone.

“You look miserable over here,” You said, reaching past him to set your shoes down. “Had to come rescue you from your brooding.” There was something playful in your tone, but it didn’t land fully. Too much unsaid, too many what-ifs lingering just out of reach.

Hiromi raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize I needed rescuing.”

There’s soft music, clusters of clinking glasses, and enough flower arrangements to trigger a seasonal allergy. Long tables lined with white linens stretch across the lawn, while servers weave between guests carrying hors d’oeuvres on delicate ceramic trays, and you don’t notice most of it, not really.

Because Hiromi is doing this thing—this infuriating thing—where he plays the role so well you forget it is a role.

His presence is steady, commanding—like he’s spent his whole life moving through rooms like that. He always kept one hand at your back as you navigated through tables and flower-draped walkways, always just a touch away, always aware of your pace. Every time someone greeted you, he offered a polite nod or a handshake, never overdoing it, but always enough to make them remember him.

His hand always rested gently at your waist as he guided you through the crowd. Not possessive, not showy, just there. Present. Steady. The kind of touch that says ‘I’m here, you’re safe, let’s do this together’, and somehow doesn’t come off as an act at all.

He leaned in when you spoke, his breath grazing your cheek. He laughed in low, knowing tones like every comment you make is a shared secret. Every move he made was smooth and natural, like he’s done this a thousand times before—but never with anyone else.

It’s the stillness that makes it work. The way his touch lingers just enough to anchor you. The way his eyes drift to your face more often than to the room around him.

He glanced at you again, not just a glance, though. His eyes lingered—just for a second too long—on your mouth, your collarbone, the way your shoulders tensed when you caught him looking. You didn’t pull away.

“You’re hard to read sometimes,” he murmured.

“Maybe I don’t want to be read.”

“But you still want to be looked at.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You saying you’ve been looking?”

“Would it be a problem if I have?”

You didn’t answer. Just shifted closer, slow and smooth, like it meant nothing—but it did. Your shoulder brushed against his arm. Your hair fell forward a little, loose hair pieces brushing his shoulder when you turned your head. He could smell you—something soft and clean and faintly floral, and he swore the air between them changed, grew heavier somehow.

You tilted your face toward his, eyes searching his like you might find something you left there.

“You ever get the feeling,” you said, low and steady, “that you’re one bad idea away from something really good?”

Hiromi’s mouth twitched. “Every time you look at me like that.”

You didn’t smile and neither did he. You looked at him then, really looked, and the kind of silence that followed was sharp at the edges. He leaned toward you, like it had weight, like if he leaned in just a little more, gravity would take care of the rest.

You were close now. Closer than made sense for two people who weren’t something. Close enough that he could feel your breath ghost against his lips when you spoke. His eyes dropped to your mouth again—just a flicker—and yours did the same.

Neither of you moved. Just… leaned. A millimeter more. Then another.

Your hand was resting on the bar now, his just beside it, fingers almost touching. The music from the dance floor swelled, but it felt far away. Like you guys were suspended in something quieter, something just yours.

“Say it,” You whispered, barely audible. “Whatever it is you’re not saying.” Your breath fanned across his lips, warm and soft and heavy with the sweet tang of champagne. His heart knocked against his ribs, slow and loud and stupid.

Hiromi opened his mouth.

And then—

Someone called your name.

Not loud, not urgent. Just enough to slice through the moment like a letter opener through ribbon.

You turned your head, reluctantly, heart still suspended somewhere behind your ribs. A cousin, maybe. Or one of your friends, already tipsy and flushed from dancing, waving you over for a photo, for a toast, for something.

Hiromi’s breath eased out slow as you stepped back, like a camera lens refocusing. He looked down at his hand still on the bar, like he wasn’t sure when it had tightened into a fist.

You hesitated, eyes flicking back to him with something close to apology. “I should—”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

But there was something in his tone that had shifted. Not cold, just… neutral. Controlled. Like a courtroom door swinging closed.

You didn’t want to leave. Not really. But you also didn’t know how to stay—not after what almost happened. Not with your pulse still stuttering and your skin still lit up in the shape of him.

So you went.

Hiromi watched you fade back into the golden blur of the reception. Watched you laugh and pose and dance barefoot with your friends beneath the fairy lights.

And for the first time that night, he wished he wasn’t pretending.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

The wedding had wound down. Laughter faded into the hush of music playing for no one, and sparklers had long burned down to silver sticks, discarded on the edge of the patio.

You didn’t remember grabbing his hand. Or maybe he offered it first—you couldn’t tell anymore, but you were walking now. Past the dance floor, past the tents and tables, through a narrow path lit only by string lights overhead and the soft glow of garden lanterns tucked among the hedges. The gravel crunched beneath your bare feet. You didn’t care. Your shoes were somewhere behind you, and so was the noise.

Hiromi walked beside you in silence, his jacket draped over your shoulders. He didn’t offer it with words, just settled it there when you shivered once, the fabric still warm from his body. His sleeves were rolled up now, forearms bare and hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

“I didn’t expect to enjoy tonight,” you said eventually, your voice low and quiet in the hush of midnight. “But you’re… kind of annoyingly good at this.”

“At pretending?” he asked, without looking at you.

“At making it feel real,” you corrected.

He stopped walking. You did too, almost out of reflex.

The garden opened up a little ahead—just a small clearing with a bench, some flowers you couldn’t name, and the distant sound of water from a hidden fountain. You turned to look at him, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself.

“It’s easier with you,” he said after a beat. His eyes met yours in the dark—soft, unreadable, and so full of quiet longing it almost hurt to look at.

“Why?” you asked.

Hiromi’s gaze dropped to your mouth, flicked back up. His voice was soft. “Because I like the way you look at me… even when you’re trying not to.”

That did something to you. A warm crack down your spine, a flutter in your ribs.

“I’m not pretending anymore,” you said, and the moment the words left your mouth, you realized how true they were.

Hiromi took a step closer, and your breath hitched—just slightly. He raised a hand, slow and careful, like he was testing gravity again, brushing your hair back from your face. His fingers were warm, gentle, grazing your jaw before dropping away.

“You can still walk away,” he said, low and honest. “Tell me it was just for show. We go back to being strangers tomorrow.”

You looked at him, and he looked back, and whatever tension had lived between you all night thickened, slow and certain, like molasses in warm air.

His words hung between you like smoke—heavy, suffocating. You didn’t step back. Couldn’t. Your chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid, everything felt too deeply for something that was supposed to be pretend.

You stared at him, heart hammering like it wanted to crawl out of your throat. “Is that what you want?” you asked, your voice raw.

Hiromi’s jaw flexed, a muscle twitching near his temple. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” you snapped, and suddenly you were close, closer than either of you realized. Your hand had found his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. His breath hitched, yours did too.

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up, dark and unreadable. “Say it,” he said. “Say it wasn’t real.”

“I can’t.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but shaking with emotion. It came out like a confession, like a wound.

He moved then—not forward, not away. Just leaned in, so close your noses brushed, so close the heat from his mouth ghosted over yours with every breath.

“I wanted to stay scared of you,” he murmured, and you swore your heart stopped. “But you kept looking at me like I meant something… and now I can’t stop needing that.”

Your hand slid up his chest, fingers clutching at his collar. “Then don’t.”

He exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding it in for too long. His forehead touched yours, eyes closing just for a second. But he didn’t kiss you. Not yet.

“This feels like a bad idea,” he whispered.

“It is,” you breathed. “But I still want it.”

There was a beat of silence. One beat. Two.

Then his hand slid around your waist, firm and deliberate, pulling you against him—not tender, not hesitant, but like he was tired of pretending he didn’t want to. Like if he didn’t touch you now, he’d lose his mind.

Your mouths hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hands gripping fabric like anchors, like you’d both fall if you let go.

Still no kiss. Just the unbearable closeness of it.

His breath was warm against your mouth, uneven. Like he was fighting it, like kissing you would mean losing something he couldn’t get back, but you were done pretending too.

So you tilted your chin up—just enough to close that impossible gap—and your lips brushed.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate.

Hiromi’s mouth crashed into yours like it was the only language he had left. His hand slid up your spine, rough palm splaying between your shoulder blades, holding you like he didn’t trust you to stay otherwise.

You gasped into him, and he swallowed the sound with a low noise from deep in his throat. Not quite a growl—no, something more human than that. Like pain and hunger and relief all tangled together.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, knuckles white, dragging him closer even though there was no space left. He tasted like heat, like fury held back too long, like he was finally letting himself feel and it was too much.

He broke the kiss with a curse, resting his forehead against yours again, chest heaving. “Shit,” he said, voice ruined. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You kissed him again.

Faster this time. Needier.

His hands found your hips, fingers digging in just enough to ground himself. One of them slid up, tracing your jaw, brushing your cheek, like he didn’t know whether to hold you or memorize you.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, eyes glassy. “Do we still go back to being strangers tomorrow?”

Hiromi’s eyes searched yours—wild, flickering. And then he shook his head. Just once.

“No,” he said, hoarse. “Not after this.”

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

His hand was still at your jaw, rough and trembling, and your breath was uneven against his. Every inch between you charged, heated, collapsing.

You leaned into him, and he met you halfway—mouths clashing again, nothing sweet or soft about it. It was a kiss that bruised. A kiss that breathed. His mouth was hot, demanding, like he was trying to consume the moment, like he didn’t want to remember what it felt like to be without you.

Fingers curled in his shirt. His grip tightened at your waist. Each touch dragged you closer, a slow burn spilling through your chest and twisting in your stomach.

You kissed him like you wanted to stay lost in him. He kissed you like he never planned to stop.

There was no space left between your bodies. His thumb brushed your cheek like he couldn’t help it, like he wasn’t ready to let the moment end, and your hands slid into his hair, holding, grounding, needing.

The world around you was silent, but everything between you—every breath, every brush of skin, every beat of your heart—was impossibly loud.

And still, you didn’t let go. Not yet.

His hand found yours, warm and certain, and for a moment, the night felt like it belonged to only the two of you.

#higuruma #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #jjk #fluff #higuruma x reader #hiromi jjk #higuruma x you #jujutsu kaisen #fake dating #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #higuruma fluff #jujutsu kaisen higuruma #mutual pining #your honor i love him

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twyudai · 3 days ago

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pls soft dom jo ik everyone sees him as a sub but i will forever defend shy soft dom jo. just imagine yapping about ur day to him but he cant seem to focus when all his focus is on the way how your lips move...

📬 i stand firmly on the soft!dom jo agenda—he reminds me of a lover boy who dates to marry and not for fun. i can see why people think he’s a sub but but he gives me soft puppy boyfriend. i also write predominant dom!idol so that could also be my daddy issues talking + jo is my top 3 so. i’m gonna enjoy writing this one.

he’d be staring so hard. listening to you, or not. throwing it random ‘damn really?’ or the iconic ‘oh wow,’. “yeah and then the manager, comes to her and it’s like a whole thing. she literally curses the manager out! i mean i understand but damn girl now you don’t have a job.” you laughed, rambling to your boyfriend like you did everyday after a hard day of working—but it was something about today.

joist couldn’t seem to focus on the topic at hand, the conversation. the way your curled up next to him with his hands placed on your legs. in which he’d placed over his lap when you both finished settling down for the night. “and she so annoying jo, seriously.. it just gets to a point.. i should probably start looking for another job.” he watched your lips, your eyebrows when the furrowed from talking about what was going on—how pretty you looked for him right now.

“baby,” jo blurted, his finger rubbed circles over your thigh, ghosting them “you know i love hearing you talk… but you’re sitting here looking like this.” his eyes were dark, the energy in the room changed just in an instant. “this good.. how could you expect me to focus so well?” he moved closer, placing a kiss on your jaw, you let a smile form on your lips. “shut up…” you muttered playfully.

but jo made his way between your legs, resting his body there as he kissed your lips, softly. with intent. and of course you’d melt underneath him—kissing him back with quickness because missing out on that would not be an option. “keep talking baby,” he whispered, lips moving down your neck—his hands slipping underneath his your shirt.

“well..” you felt his hand brush across your chest. rubbing your nipple and kneading your breasts, eyes fluttering shut. “i-.. i.” -/ “you what? what happens next baby?” you were lost in his touch. the way his fingers dragged so carefully and softly across your chest, like he was scared he’d break you. his hand began traveling south.

it was like you knew to spread your legs a little wider, bending the knee gently as his hands slipped into your panties. that could be another reason why he was so distracted, you weren’t wearing any bottoms—nor were you wearing a bra. you were ready for bedtime, but not on jo’s watch. once he felt your hips buckle under him—he knew he had you.

fingers pressing down on your clit, he gave them small rubs in circles. cutting your breath short—getting caught in the back of your throat. the soft padding of his long finger always sent you places—places you love visiting. because when no touched you it felt real.. like he could take his time with you and not worry about either of you getting bored.

“that’s it baby, those pretty sounds..” he listened to your moans, ears next to your mouth. was it a reach to say jo (or you) has a voice kink. and it was so obvious, the minute you’d start talking—your voice would drip down his ear, or down his chest. and sometimes he just could help but get hard—cock twitching in his boxers. feening to be touched.

jo slips one finger into you, earning a gasp from you, which sent him over the edge. “you’re doing so well for me..” he added another finger, a drawn out moan slipping. louder than before. it was deliberate—every thrust and curl of his fingers we feel and meant something. and when his thumb rubbed your clit—you were heaven sent.

“oh my god..” you whispered, fingers lightly digging into his wrists. back lightly arching off the couch. he stared at you, eyes dark but filled with pure love and lust for you. he looked at you like a fine china, handling you carefully and delicately. “r..right there.” your whimpers grow shakier, your hand gripping his hoodie, head buried against his neck as he keeps you close, murmuring praise right into your skin.

the sounds of your soaked, sopping cunt is what really sent him. the wet sound of your cunt, his wet fingers dipping in and out repeatedly—oh god jo was in love with every part of you.

biting my fist… that should be ME.

#jo.#user twyudai.#📨 — hotbox.#jo smut #&team jo smut #andteam smut #andteam jo smut #jo imagines #asakura jo smut #asakura jo #andteam imagines

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matts-girlfriend · 2 days ago

Text

It’s You I Welcome Death With- Chris Sturniolo

TattooArtist!Chris and MakeupArtist!Reader

chapter 5

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

warning this series will contain, substance abuse, angst, arguing,tension,swearing, mentions of absent family, blood, abuse (not from chris). smut, oral, this is a warning for all chapters

The text came in while Y/N was elbow-deep in books and essays.

Nick S:

hey need a favor if you’re not booked—photoshoot thing for the shop, you in?

She didn’t hesitate.

Y/N:

i’m in. send details.

⸻

It was kind of weird how easily she clicked with Nick. He was the least chaotic of the brothers—organized, sharp-tongued, stylish in a way that made her trust his skincare routine more than most dermatologists. His tattoos were minimal, well-placed. And most importantly: he gave zero fucks about flirting with her.

God bless gay men.

The shoot wasn’t anything major, just some new promo shots for the tattoo studio’s Instagram. She was blending foundation into some guy’s jawline when Nick perched on a stool beside her, sipping an iced coffee with three shots of espresso and at least two existential crises.

“You’re good at this,” he said, watching her work.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

He smirked. “Not surprised. Just impressed. That’s different.”

Y/N raised a brow but didn’t argue. The compliment felt genuine—like everything else about Nick.

When the last flash of the camera went off and everyone started packing up, Nick nudged her gently with his elbow.

“Hey. We’re throwing a party Saturday night. Kind of a big thing—grand opening slash shop launch slash excuse to get drunk and show off our new house.”

She wiped her hands on a towel. “You inviting me as the artist or the entertainment?”

“As the hot girl who made our models not look like sleep-deprived zombies,” he deadpanned. “Come on. It’ll be chill. Just a bunch of gays, tattoo guys, and questionable influencers. You’ll fit in.”

Y/N hesitated. Crowds weren’t her thing lately. Neither was pretending everything in her life wasn’t on fire.

But Nick looked so hopeful. And truthfully, she hadn’t been invited to anything in a while that didn’t involve cleaning up someone else’s mess.

She sighed. “Fine. But if someone plays Taylor Swift unironically, I’m leaving.”

⸻

Later that night, she sat cross-legged on her bed, tossing M&M’s into her mouth while Ava scrolled TikTok beside her.

“There’s a party,” Y/N said casually.

“Are you going?” Ava asked, not looking up.

“I think so.”

A pause. Then:

“Who’s throwing it?”

Y/N didn’t answer fast enough.

Ava narrowed her eyes. “Who’s throwing it?”

She sighed. “Nick. Chris’s brother.”

Ava dropped her phone. “CHRIS’S brother? Tattoo boy Chris? 2AM-blunt-sharing, sad-eyes, fine-as-fuck Chris?”

Y/N groaned. “Stop talking.”

“Oh my god.” Ava was fully sitting up now. “You’re going to his house. That’s basically Wattpad endgame.”

“I’m not even sure if he’ll be there.”

“But if he is, what are you gonna wear? Should I do your eyeliner? Do you want slutty or mysterious?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” Ava sing-songed, already grabbing her makeup bag.

⸻

She got to the party late.

The backyard was lit up with string lights and half-empty bottles. Music thumped from inside the house, not quite loud enough to be obnoxious. People were scattered in small groups, drinks in hand, laughter echoing off the walls.

Nick spotted her first, weaving through a crowd of guys who looked like they could hear colors and girls who looked like they were on the verge of throwing up.

“You made it!” he grinned, pulling her into a quick side-hug. “You look hot. I’m telling everyone you’re here to scout models.”

She snorted. “Please don’t.”

Matt appeared behind him, a drink in each hand. “You’re the makeup girl, right?”

“Y/N,” she said.

Matt gave her a once-over that wasn’t flirty—more curious than anything. “Cool. Heard about you.”

“Hopefully good things.”

Matt just smiled like he knew something she didn’t.

Chris was nowhere to be seen, and honestly? That was fine. She made polite conversation, complimented someone’s earrings, pretended not to notice three different girls making out on the porch swing. It was all good.

Until she stepped onto the upstairs balcony and saw him.

Backlit by moonlight, blunt tucked between his lips.

Black hoodie. Rings catching the light.

No girl beside him.

Of course.

Chris turned just enough to catch her watching.

“You always stare like that?” he asked, voice low.

“Only at people who look like they’re about to drop the biggest breakup song of the year.”

He grinned, holding out the blunt. “Come judge me closer.”

She walked over. Took it. Smoked in silence for a second before speaking.

“You really always smoke at parties?”

Chris shrugged. “Better than being outside. Less noise.”

“Mm.”

Another hit.

Then he asked, “Why are you like that with guys?”

“Like what?”

He gave her a look. “Mean. Distant. Untouchable.”

She didn’t answer right away. She usually wouldn't've but the weed in her system made it all the more easy to open up.

“I haven’t trusted a guy since I was thirteen and got left to raise my little sister alone.”

Chris didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

But something behind his eyes changed.

He said nothing. Just passed her the blunt again.

She took it slowly, then asked, “What about you? Why all the girls?”

Chris leaned back on the railing. “Sex is just sex. It’s easy. No one expects anything. No one gets close. But kissing? Kissing’s different.”

Y/N arched a brow. “You don’t kiss?”

“Not unless I mean it.”

She laughed, breathless. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“You think?”

“I think the opposite makes more sense,” she said. “I kiss all the time. But I never let anyone get further. Kissing’s just kissing. Intimacy’s letting someone in. Sex is the closest you can be with someone.”

They stared at each other then. Long and quiet. Something buzzing in the space between them.

Chris tilted his head, His tongue swiping by his cheek before he spoke. “So what you’re saying is… you wouldn’t fuck me.”

“Nope.”

“But you’d let me kiss you?”

“Depends where.”

He smirked. Stepped closer.

And instead of going for her lips, he dipped his head to the curve of her neck, warm breath ghosting her skin before his lips pressed right against her pulse.

Soft. Lingering. Petty as hell.

Y/N’s breath hitched. She didn’t stop him.

Didn’t want to.

But then—her phone rang.

Ava.

Her stomach dropped.

She stepped away fast, swiping to answer. “Ava?”

All she heard was sobbing.

“Ava. Talk to me. What happened?”

“Y/N,” her sister cried. “I’m sorry—I—I went to get food and he woke up and he was so mad—he threw a bottle—”

Y/N was already running.

⸻

She didn’t even remember getting in the car.

Just the red light blur of the streets.

Just the fear.

When she threw open the front door, her stepdad was half-passed out on the couch, a new bottle of beer in his hand.

On the floor—glass.

A shard streaked in blood.

Y/N bolted up the stairs two at a time.

Ava was in her bed, crying, her hoodie stained at the shoulder where blood had soaked through. Y/N pulled the fabric back and saw it—a gash just above her temple, still bleeding.

“Shit, baby. Come here,” she whispered, grabbing the first aid kit. “It’s okay. I got you.”

“He didn’t mean to,” Ava sobbed. “I just—I dropped a plate and he freaked—”

Y/N held her tighter. Pressed a clean towel to the wound and kept her voice steady even though she wanted to scream.

“I’m gonna fix this, okay?” she whispered. “You’re safe now. I’m here.”

She kissed her sister’s forehead and bandaged the cut, tucking them both under the blanket like she could shield her from the whole damn world.

And once Ava was asleep, Y/N stared at the ceiling with tears in her eyes and just one thought looping in her head:

We need to get out. Now.

a/n: seriously debating on writting the stepdad falling into a ditch.

taglist: @courta13 @m4gz-png @lezleeferguson-120

@h3arts4nat @izzylovesmatt @sturnioliolo @hsemeria @sturniqloo

@venusbabysblog @chrisslut04 @crazy4weeed @chriscokewhore @chrisswaffles @urfavvvnyasee @sturnzluv @freshluvr @mattthemunchh @poolover123 @pleasantdelusionbear @carpentersturns @emosexyvirgin @emillionaireee @shamelessmilkshakefest @xoxochrissgf @sturniolodollx @joyfulheartwhispers @cutseylady @oopsiedaisydeer @steph1106

@laylaluvsu2000 @lvrsturniolo @chloe444 @yamommmasman @55sturn @whenlovesaround @luvs-booksss @vampyyluv @moth-feeet @cass-sturn

(dividers by @bernardsbendystraws)

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