#BUT in my defense THAT SHIT DROPPED TODAY

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Did you post your sign you made?? I scrolled your page but didn’t see it anywhere 🙈👀 (sorry if you did post it and I’m just dumb and didn’t scroll back far enough or something lol)

Oh my gosh hi. No I did not let me add a photo now to this ask. I just talked to andy ( @puck-luck) and Sim (@stayg-0ld) because I very much was unsure if I was going to make one and then last night I said fuck it.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

how does toxicfwb chris put toxicfwb reader in her place (i need to be put down right now)

cw: established safeword, slapping, choking, face fucking, spanking, fuuuucking

“get the fuck away from me,” you grumble, shoving chris away from you aggressively from where you stood, head peering around your tv in your bedroom as you tried to figure out why the fuck it wasn’t working properly.

“i’m trying to fucking help you,” chris snaps, tone irritated, which in turn makes you more irritated as well. “well you mouth breathing down my neck isn’t fucking helping me, it’s just pissing me off,” you spit back at him, turning to glare at him.

“okay,” he laughs bitterly, nodding his head. “so you’re just in the mood to be a bitch right now, then?” your heart rate picks up at his comment and you have to squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to not feel like you were going to explode. “christopher,” you start slowly, peeling your eyes open to look at him again, gaze landing on his sudden cringe from you using his full name. “back up and leave me alone before i smack the fuck out of you.”

his eyes widen, but not in a way that shows fear, more of an amused expression taking over his features. he’d love to see you pull some shit like that. “you need to calm down,” he warns and this sets you off, sending you charging towards him with a hand wound up behind you and ready to strike him wherever you could reach.

as your hand flies down, he reaches up to grab your wrist and it all happens so quickly, the way he spins you around and pins your arm behind your back, walking you a few steps until your chest was pressed against the wall, his body flush against yours. “drop the attitude,” he demands, his voice sending tingles down your spine.

“i don’t have an attitude!” you argue, squirming in his grasp. it’s no use, his fingers are digging into your skin roughly and his body has you pinned, there’s no way you’re getting away from him. “just because you’re pissing me off and i don’t want to be around you doesn’t mean i have an attitude.”

“sounds like an attitude to me,” chris retorts, tightening his grip on you, making you whine. “you don’t get to be a little baby just because you’re mad.” he’s right and you know he is, but you’d never admit that, plus he was pissing you off just by being so close. you were fully confident you could fix the issue yourself.

“i’m not being a fucking baby, chris, let go of me!” you wiggle even harder, knowing his grip on you was going to leave bruises. you could feel the interaction slipping into something filthier, his chest pressed against your back making your mind fuzzy, jaw dropping open as his free hand that wasn’t holding your wrist in place slid to rest on your waist exposed by the crop top you wore.

“say you’re sorry,” chris mumbles into your ear, lips close to your skin, his smirk prominent in his voice. “i’m not sorry, i didn’t do anything,” you say in a huffy tone.

“say you’re fucking sorry,” he demands again, more aggressive this time as his hand slips into the front of the waistband of your sweatpants. you gasp at the feeling of his fingers dancing over the fabric of your panties, not having been touched by him today despite already being together for a few hours. you were beyond needy for him but you didn’t want him to know now that you were trying to be tough. “‘m not sorry,” you mutter, cheek pressed against the cold wall, eyes looking everywhere but back at him.

the hand wrapped around your wrist finally lets go, but only long enough for him to slide it up and to the front of your throat, long fingers wrapping around until he could squeeze, drawing a strained gasp from your mouth. “say it again. tell me you’re not sorry,” he rasps into your ear, lips barely brushing against your skin.

you shift on your feet, a soft whimper leaving your lips, already overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. “i didn’t do anything wrong,” you choke out, standing firm in your defense.

chris’s hand slips further into your pants, his middle fingers pressing against your clit on top of your panties, making you weak in the knees as you finally felt some sort of stimulation. “fuck, please,” you groan out, eyes fluttering shut and hips twitching against his hand.

“please, what?” he mocks, pulling your head off the wall and towards him, forcing an arch in your back. “touch me,” you respond desperately. “please touch me, i need it.”

chris laughs, actually laughs at you as he presses firmer through the fabric. “say you’re sorry and i’ll touch you,” he bargains.

you whine, wiggling more in his grip to try and escape, causing chris to snap, no longer being patient with you. he backs away, keeping his hand firm on your throat as he pulls you with him, manhandling you until you were on your knees on the floor at the end of your bed, staring up at him with wide eyes. “if you’re not going to apologize then you don’t get to speak until you do,” he tells you, leaving no room for argument as he shoves his pants and briefs down in one movement, hard cock swinging out.

you gasp at the sight and he uses this perfect opportunity to shove his length past your lips, letting out a low groan at the wet feeling of your mouth wrapped around him. “there we go, that’s it,” he mumbles, placing both of his hands on either side of your head to keep you in place as he rocks his hips forward, giving you no time to adjust. “finally fucking quiet.”

your hands come up to rest on his thighs for support, tears already starting to fill your eyes as he rams his cock down your throat, using you for his own pleasure. “look so pretty crying with my dick in your throat, don’t you?” chris teases as he stares down at you with that cocky smirk, loving the way you already looked wreck from the way he rocked his hips into you.

your saliva started to thicken as you gagged around him, sputtering out around his length and dripping down your chin as you kept your eyes on his face the best you could, nails digging into his skin harshly.

“you sorry yet?” chris asks, slowing down and letting his cock fall from your lips, laughing at the way you gasped for air when your mouth was empty. you didn’t answer, only coughed a few times as you tried to catch your breath, earning you a small but still slightly shocking slap to your cheek, followed by chris gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “i said are you sorry yet?”

you whimper quietly from the pain, but keep your eyes locked on his. “i didn’t do anything wrong,” you choke out, tears sliding down your red cheeks.

chris grumbles at your answer, using his grip on your hair to pull you up to your feet and turn you around, bending you over the mattress before sliding your sweats and underwear down, hands gripping at your now exposed ass cheeks roughly. “last chance,” he warns, voice serious.

you turn to look back at him, seeing him already staring at you expectantly. truthfully, making him mad already made you horny enough, but you loved pushing his buttons more than you’d ever care to tell him, so you wanted to see how far he’d take it and how much you could handle.

“i told you i’m not fucking sorry,” you say in the brattiest tone you can muster up and you can actually see the way chris’s eyes darken at your words. he just purses his lips and nods, letting out a small, “okay,” before drawing his hand up and striking down roughly, his handprint immediately blooming on your plush skin.

you jump forward, whimpering loudly at the contact, thinking maybe you’d have a second to recover before he lands another blow on the opposite cheek, ripping a small squeal from your lips. “ouch!” you yell at him, trying to squirm away, but he’s got you right where he wants you and there’s no escaping without giving him what he wants.

“chris, that fucking hurts,” you whine as he smacks your ass again, your cheek buried into your comforter. he hears your words, but it’s what he sees that encourages him to keep going.

your pussy is glistening, soaked folds on display from the way you were bent over in front of him, your body clearly enjoying everything he was putting you through. it took everything in him to not give in and slide into you and fuck you brainless.

“hurt enough to say you’re sorry?” he asks, pausing for a moment to lean over your body, expectantly waiting for your answer.

you crane your neck to meet his eyes, your own still glossy with tears as you shake your head slightly. “n-no,” you mumble, whimpering when he stands back up straight, bracing for impact.

this goes on until you’re full on crying against the sheets, hands gripping onto the blankets for some sort of brace as he spanked you over and over, your skin red and puffy from his hands.

“okay!” you finally cry out, stopping him in his tracks as he winds up to smack you once more, drawing his attention up to your face. “yes, baby?” he croons, leaning over you once more to press his lips against your shoulder. “gonna tell me you’re sorry now?”

you nod frantically, sniffling pathetically. “yes, i-i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to give you attitude or be mean, was just frustrated. please, please, touch me, fuck me, anything, i need it.” you beg, unable to focus on anything except the way your skin stung.

“you’re not just apologizing to get what you want, right?” chris asks in a fake sweet voice, his hands trailing over your hips gently, a stark contrast from the last few minutes of torture.

you shake your head quickly, pushing yourself up on one arm to look at him. “swear,” you tell him. “‘m so sorry.”

he smirks and pushes himself back up until he’s standing behind you again, angling his cock at your entrance. “wasn’t so hard, was it?” he says in a snotty voice before pushing inside and bottoming out in one go, ripping a loud, satisfied moan from your lips.

[smallandsundry]

more of the bishova rugby au

plus some incredible ficlets from @simplykorra , @thecousinsdangereux and @strangelythirsty <3

Ficlet 1, by simplykorra:

"Kate?! What was that??" Clint's mad, like...sure, Kate shouldn't be suprised. She had a wide open run in front of her and just completely fucking dropped the ball and turned it over. But in her defense she did NOT know that the other team was allowed to cheat. Because that's absolutely what that was, cheating. Who the fuck flips their hair like that mid match? Who wipes the sweat off their forehead with the bottom of their shirt, showing off their insane abs in the middle of a match when it is quite obivous that someone on the other team is pathetically gay and crushing. That's the worst part, she has an insane crush and she really shouldn't. Because Yelena Belova is the enemy, or so has been said in every practice leading up to this game. She's the best player on that team, one of the best they'll face all year, and Kate had this big, annoying speech about how she could handle her. Then one peek of abs and Kate's losing her shit, dropping the ball and now getting yelled at by her coach - who is still yelling, right. She needs to pay attention. "Sorry!" She grins, because smiling always gets her out of stuff. "Butterfingers or whatever, you know? It's hot out here today. Sweat and...stuff...you know how it goes." Clint eyes her, then looks over her shoulder to something on the other side of the pitch. When Kate looks back, Yelena is looking right at her, with the most annoying smirk on her face. Then, like she KNOWS Clint is also looking, Yelena winks at her. "Oh my god." Clint says and Kate turns in a hurry to see him rolling his eyes. "Seriously? That's why you dropped the ball? Natasha's cranky little sister?" Kate takes a deep breath, a thousand excuses coming and going through her head. She could pluck any one of them and it would probably be enough to put an end to this conversation. But she knows that she has to go back out there again and will probably look into Yelena's eyes again and will DEFINITELY do something else stupid when that happens. "I don't know what you want me to say, coach. She's really hot." "Yeah, and we're really losing. Do you think she's gonna want to buy you a drink if you go out there and keep fumbling the ball like your hands are made of butter?" Kate shrugs, "I mean, dopey and gay has kinda worked for me so far, you saw the wink." "Okay, look, it's my fault for starting this conversation but I'm not the one to talk to about your crush." "Whoa, who said anything about a-" His raised eyebrows puts an end to her sentence. "I'll just...close my eyes whenever she's in my field of view." "Or you could get your shit together and just play the game." The whistle blows as the timeout comes to an end and Kate looks back just in time to see Yelena trotting out onto the field, not once taking her eyes off of Kate. When she looks back to Clint, she grimaces. "I'll close my eyes." It doesn't work. They lose the game. But Kate manages to get that drink afterwards. One more win for dopey and gay.

Ficlet 2, by thecousinsdangereux:

Kate had done a really admirable job of keeping her focus.

This is, at least, what she keeps telling herself at the half. Or maybe, probably, more like reminding herself, with the explicit objective of convincing herself not to look over towards the opposing team's bench. Because looking over towards the opposing team during warm-ups is what had gotten her in this mess in the first place, if said mess could be called a mess because really! she'd done a super admirable job of keeping her focus in the face of the absolutely fucking smoke show on the other team. The one with the thighs and the hair and the skills and general overall attractiveness that Kate had definitely not been distracted by at all.

(During the game, specifically. Never mind warm ups. Or now.)

"It's like you can hear her thoughts," Greer says, ostensibly to Franny, but mostly to fuck with Kate.

''Don't look at number two, don't look at number two, don't look at number two.'"

“'No matter how many times we sensually locked eyes in the middle of a competitive match.’"

"Number two is not showing the same restraint," Franny comments, dropping the mocking internal commentary quickly. "She is looking right over here and — yeah, okay, damn —  she's lifting her shirt to wipe the sweat off her face. Jesus."

Kate twists her neck with enough speed that something pops and fine, she's not doing a great job with that whole focus thing and who cares? Hot blonde has abs and Kate is gay and there were more important things than rugby and winning and pride and... other stuff that Kate would definitely be able to list if number two hadn't — at that exact moment — decided to look up and (without dropping her shirt! which! fuck!) smile, too crooked to be anything but smug.

"Yeah, okay, we're going to lose," Greer declares. "Pack it in, folks! Kate is too gay to function! Might as well call the game now!"

She definitely says it loud enough to be heard across the field. Kate sneaks a peek and, yeah, number two definitely hears it.

"You're the worst friend I've ever had."

Except maybe not, because the blonde doesn't exactly look put out by any of it. She's (mercifully) dropped her shirt, and this time when she holds Kate's stare, she lifts a hand to wave, with just the tips of her fingers. It's short-lived, because the team's coach (a redhead who — it has to be said — also has a lot going for her) yanks the girl back over to the bench by the back of her shirt and begins to lay into her in a language that sounds Slavic. The blonde rolls her eyes, but is (apparently) not especially deterred, because she looks back over at Kate with an expression that's full of dry humor.

('Do you see what I put up with for you?' Kate imagines her saying, in that accent that she'd definitely noticed on the field and had definitely found attractive and would definitely like to hear in other contexts. Such as for example — )

"Holy shit, Kate. You're drooling."

"I'm not drooling." She's not, but does wipe at her mouth as she pulls her stare away, back towards her own bench.

Ficlet 3, by strangelythirsty:

Kate thanks the gods, and more specifically, the athletic commission, who okay’d each teams’ uniforms. Previously it was because the new board leader agreed for her team to change out the old fashioned cotton for the good moisture wicking material. Which is its own thing. But this?

She hasn't seen as good an argument against the old cotton shirts as this one.

“The ball!” A distant voice says, but that's not important right now. What is is the expanse of abs she's seeing — which is currently beading with sweat, and okay she's heard the arguments, abs are for vanity more than function, yada yada yada. But who can argue with these results?

“The ball!” The voice says, now closer than it was.

She blinks because the shirt (which was hiked up to be used as a towel) has dropped back down. Oh right, the game. She picks up the ball at the last possible minute, the rival team had come close to grabbing it where it fell from her hands only a second ago. No need for her coach to be looking like he was going to have a stroke, that was a little dramatic.

It doesn't matter because she grabs the ball anyway, side steps the tackle, and takes off back down the field.

By the time the first half is over, they're still down two points, a simple goal would put them over the edge.

Later, she'll blame the coach for making the call for the play, and maybe, a little bit could have been the way she's completely distracted with Captain Belova tackling her.

The pass was clean, the team nearly in place for her to throw the ball, but she sees the streak of short blonde hair and white and red getting closer. Instead of looking for the next best teammate to throw the ball to for the score, she looks at Captain Belova, expression intensely focused, full lips pulled back exposing beautiful teeth in a snarl (beautiful teeth? She’ll later think, get it together, Bishop). But right now? Belova’s shoulder meets her midsection in a perfect tackle, the air leaving her lungs and the ball flings from her grasp as she goes — right into the rival team’s number two, who runs it down the line in a game clenching score.

The rest of the teams take off down the field to follow the action, but Yelena sits up, legs straddling hers. “Distracted, Kate?”

“Oh fuck off, Yelena. You didn't tell me you were working on your abs.” Kate laughs, poking her stomach through her shirt, feeling the warm skin and wet shirt.

She's going to get her back for that, somehow.

[batboyblog]

I'm seeing a worrying amount of idiots on tumblr dot com push that "Kamala hates trans women" and I am losing my mind at how they are pushing it, constantly, saying she is a proven transmisogynist, despite it being a complete lie and her actively working behind the scenes to help trans women in prison. Is there like, sources that could help debunk this shit because I'm at my wits end as these people scream and cry and vomit trying to get biden to drop out but then are like "eghhhh still don't wanna vote for a transphobic cop..." when she's NEITHER-

Isn't the internet wonderful? first rule NEVER examine your priors! ALWAYS! hang onto whatever the first hot take you had on a subject to THE DEATH!

"Kamala is Transphobic!" over here in reality

past that trans and LGBT rights groups have been quick to endorse her like

Advocates for Trans Equality

Human Rights Campaign

just today 1,100 LGBT celebrities, lawmakers and leaders endorsed her

“The intersection on the issue of reproductive care and trans care, and the ability of families to be able to have care for their children and their families, is really, again, an intersection around attacks that are on an identity,” -Vice-President Harris, 2023

any ways the root of the idea she's transphobic comes from one case in 2015. Two inmates in the California State Prison system sued to get GRS, which as inmates would have been covered by the Prison system. It's worth noting here, both women got what they wanted, one was paroled and got the surgery covered by California Medicare while the other serving a life sentence was ultimately covered by the prison system.

Two things are important to bear in mind here, 1. Part of the job of California Attorneys General is to defend the state when it is sued, thats the job, 2. It seems early on in the case Harris was not personally aware of it, about 1,000 lawyers work in the Cali AG's office and so the AG cannot be personally aware of every case, and check this quote from the Lambda Legal lawyer handling the case:

“The California AG’s office shifted its handling of these cases significantly after now-Sen. Harris took over,” Renn said. “Initially there was language in briefing for the state that glaringly misunderstood the medical necessity of transition-related medical care and was patently offensive. But then, there was a dramatic change, which seems to have gone along with important policy shifts.”

Link

in 2019 Harris talked about the case and working after it was settled to change the policy of the California State Prison system

"When that case came up, I had clients, and one of them was the California Department of Corrections. It was their policy. When I learned about what they were doing, behind the scenes, I got them to change the policy," Harris said.

"I commit to you that always in these systems there are going to be these things that these agencies do. And I will commit myself, as I always have, to dealing with it," Harris said.

Any ways Harris can consistently spoken out for and supported Trans people, banned the hateful Trans panic defense when she was AG, in the Senate supported the Equality Act, during her 2020 campaign for President she drew attention to the hate crimes against black trans women while holding herself accountable for the 2015 case. As Vice-President she drew fire voicing support for Dylan Mulvaney during the hellish Bud Light backlash. Her Husband Doug was tapped to host the first ever White House Trans Day of Remembrance

basically you're looking at a great ally who clearly supports trans rights, who was involved in a case, which involved two people who got the surgeries they were looking for paid for by the State of California, close to 10 years ago now, there's evidence that both she moved the case in a better direction when she took over it and also that she changed the polices of the state to before more gender affirming.

[yeonzzzn]

You getting on alpha Jungwon nerves, making him trigger his rut and bend you over every surface of your house

broooooo😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I can imagine just being a complete brat and annoying the absolute shit outta won to his breaking point 😵‍💫

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

push my buttons: yang jungwon

pairing: jungwon x afab!reader word count: 2.2k

Acting like a brat to your boyfriend to purposely annoy him wasn’t anything new to your relationship. 

Pushing his buttons was in your nature and your favorite pastime. Seeing the way he would scrunch his nose and furrow his brows at you got you going every single time, only furthering your need to piss him off to see that annoyed look turn into a stern one. Jaw locked and fists clenching at his sides as he eyes you with a look of warning. You knew what your punishments would be if you kept pushing him anymore, but your brat behavior would always continue until his hands were on your body and you were bent over whatever surface was near you at that moment as he pounded into your cunt, “Going to fuck that pretty little brat behavior outta ya baby girl.” 

And tonight wasn’t any different than normal. Except for the fact Jungwon already came home pissed off to all hell, yelling into his phone on call with one of his best friends about the bullshit that happened at work earlier. 

It was the perfect time to press his buttons. You were feeling needy all day and wanted to get railed as soon as he got home and with the fact Jungwon was already mad, it would make your job easier. 

Jungwon stood in the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors closed, aggressively opening the fridge to grab a water bottle and then kicking it closed, chuckling over whatever it was his friend said over the phone before sitting down at the table and opening the bottle, tossing the cap into the trash can. 

You pressed your body against the wall by the table, folding your hands behind you as you stared down at him, waiting for your moment to strike. 

Jungwon took a few sips of the water, glancing up to finally notice you against the wall, his face brows furrowing and shaking his head and muting himself on the call, “I see those gears turning YN, don’t you fucking dare.” 

You held your hands up in defense, trying to plead your innocence. But Jungwon wasn’t stupid, he’s been dating you for years. He knows your games and how you play them. He loves you dearly, but today WASN’T a day to fuck with him. 

Did you care? Absolutely not. You did respect his warning for the time being while he was on the call, but once he removed the phone from his ear and ended the call you slipped into the chair beside him, pulling it as close as you could to him, getting all in his personal space. 

Jungwon ignored you at first, dropping his head into his hands and rolling his eyes, clenching his jaw to keep from snapping. 

You poked his cheek, pulled at his ear, tugged on his shirt, and even blew on his face yet got no reaction. Meaning you just had to try harder. 

You repeated the same actions, except now teasing him with words, “Awe, poor Wonnie, had a shitty day at work? That fucking sucks, just get over it.”

Jungwon clenched his jaw tighter, “I love her I love her I love her I love her,” he kept repeating in his head, using it as a reminder that you were just being bratty like normal. He just needed to ignore it until you gave up. 

“Just stop being a baby, Won. Grow up.” 

Well, now he couldn’t ignore it. 

He whipped his head up so fast, yelling, “Can you just shut the fuck up, YN? Jesus Christ I am NOT in the fucking mood to deal with you right now,” he gave you one last warning look, staring you down. 

But now you were pissed. Jungwon has never yelled at you like that before, yes he’s yelled when you’ve pushed his buttons too far before fucking your brains out, but it was never like this. 

You matched his glare, deciding it wasn’t worth it right now, that you would just come back and try again later after whatever pissed in his lunch earlier that got him so mad was gone. 

You stood, snapping out a “What the fuck ever Jungwon.” 

And now Jungwon is done. 

Right when your back was turned to him, he jumped from the chair, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you back, slamming your back to his chest before whipping you around and bending you over the kitchen table. The water bottle was now tipped over, the liquid spilling on the table and dripping down to the floor. 

You released a gasped moan, feeling his hard length against your ass, him pressing his crotch hard onto you. 

“Jungwon?” he chuckled, his voice dropping an octave, “What happened to Won? Or Wonnie or even babe?” 

Hearing you call him by his full name sent him over the edge. You never call him Jungwon. And hearing that name fall from your lips was his last straw with you. 

But you didn’t care, you were finally getting what you wanted. You slipped your lip between your teeth, backing your ass even harder onto his cock, rocking your hips slowly. 

Jungwon held your hips tightly, forcing you to stop moving, “Ahh now that you’re getting what you want after being such a fucking brat you think I’ll just give it to you?” 

You nodded, trying to move again, but he gripped you tighter, not letting you move. 

“You’ll get this dick when I say you can,” he growls, looping his fingers into your shorts and dropping them down to your ankles, “Understand?” 

You nod again, the cool air of the apartment tingling your throbbing heat from the pool of your slick that soaked your panties, sending chills up your back. 

Jungwon squeezed your ass cheeks, pulling them apart and hissing at how your panties pressed against your pussy, your panties being so wet he could see your fuck hole perfectly clear through the white fabric. 

“Does pissing me off turn you on, baby?” he slowly slides your panties down, gently tracing his nails against your skin, watching the goosebumps rise on your skin as he drops your panties with your shorts, “So fucking horny just from pressing my nerves.” 

You gasp when you feel his cold fingers cup your folds, his index and ring fingers slowly spreading your lips, the pad of his middle finger slowly rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Wonnie, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around nothing, rolling your hips forward in a chance of getting his fingers to move right where you needed them the most, but he held his grip firm. 

“Oh, I am back to being Wonnie?” he cooed, sliding his middle finger down to your hole, tracing the outline of it, teasing you more, “Think it’s kinda too late to be obedient, ain’t it?” 

Your body tensed as his finger continued to tease you, shivering spreading across your body and knees buckling. 

“Please, Wonnie,” you begged again, tears threatening to form. 

“Awe,” he cooed again, “Fixing to cry? Stop being a baby, grow up,” he threw your words back at you, and oh god did it turn you on more, you cunt getting more wet, your slick now sliding down his hand. 

“Fuckkkk,” Jungwon groaned, seeing how your juices pooled into his palm, his free hand unbuttoning his pants, pushing his boxers down with his pants, his hard, red, and angry cock being set free. 

Using his other fingers to scoop your wet from his palm and sent it over to his cock, sliding his hand from his tip and down the shaft, “So fucking wet for me I can use your wet to cover my cock without even so much sliding into you.” 

You backed your ass into him again, once again begging, “Wonnie, do something please.” 

He smirked, sliding his middle finger into your soaking cunt. You moaned out with a smile on your face, finally feeling part of what you were craving. 

Jungwon fingered your pussy in the same motion of him fucking into his fist, small moans and gasping leaving both your lips. Your moans grow louder when he slips another finger inside you, pumping them in and out faster. 

“That's it, baby,” he gasps, “Being a good girl now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, you still don’t deserve this cock though.” 

You whimpered, the craving for his cock inside you growing more and more, “Please Wonnie, need you inside. I’ll be good, I promise.” 

He chuckled, pushing his fingers in faster, “No you won’t.” 

You smirked, lifting your head to look at him, clenching your cunt around his fingers at his fucked out face. His pupils are blown out, his mouth gaped open as his hand pumps himself and his eyes stare back at you. 

You bit your lip, keeping that eye contact with him as you now rocked your hips in sync with his fingers. 

The corners of his mouth curled, “Looking at me like that still won’t get you what you want, you’ll get this cock when I say so.” 

But you plead with him anyways, going back to being a brat, “Oh, come on Wonnie,” you bat your eyes at him, “You know you want to fuck this tight, wet cunt. Want to feel me wrapped around you.” 

He snarled at you, fingers now curling inside you, hitting at all the right spots, “Talking like that won’t get this dick inside you faster, princess.” 

You dropped your head back to the table, unable to keep it lifted as the knot in your stomach tightened, nearing the edge of your orgasm, you clenched tighter to his fingers. 

Jungwon quickly slid his fingers out, denying you the pleasure of the feeling of orgasm. Jungwon was also getting closer to his climax. And if he was going to cum it was going to be in that sopping wet cunt of yours. 

Before you could protest the missing of his fingers, his tip pushed into you, shutting you up real quick. Jungwon loved how fucking wet you were to allow him to slide in with such ease, his hips connecting to the fat of your ass, completely bottomed out. 

Your knees buckled as he slowly pulled out and then quickly pushed back in, fucking you hard against the table. He leaned over, laying on top of you, stretching his arms out above your head, pressing his palms hard against the wood to use as leverage to fuck into you harder, to help push him further into you, wanting to break any barrier that stopped him from actually prodding into your cervix. 

“Fuck, Wonnie,” you moaned, “F-feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” he bites the shell of your ear hard, a yelp gasping your mouth that sends your cunt clenching around him.

He released your ear, one hand coming to your head and turning it to face him more, his lips attaching to your mouth. Tongue pushing past your lips and down your throat, moaning into your mouth and you moaning into his. 

He finally pulled away to get a gasp of air, a string of spit connecting between your tongues before it broke and slapped onto each other's chins. 

You clenched tighter around him at the feeling of his dick twitching, his thrust now becoming sloppy, but never wavering. 

“Fuck, gonna cum soon,” he hisses, his hands now snaking underneath you, hands cupping your clothed tits as he lifts up, bringing you with him, spreading your legs further apart with his knees and fucking into you faster again, wanting to feel you cum around him as he releases inside you. 

With your orgasm fast approaching, you dropped your jaw, letting out loud wet moans.

“Yeah, baby, keep those moans loud, let the neighbors hear how much of a fucking slut you are for me, for my cock.” 

“Wonnieee,”

“Keep screaming my name, baby,” 

You let out another moan, your climax hitting its peak, your body going limp against your boyfriend as he fucked you through the high. 

He squeezed your tits tightly as he reached his own high, his hot white cum painting the walls of your cunt until it was leaking from your hole and slipping down your leg. 

Jungwon kissed your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine. 

He pulled out of you, turning you around, picking you up by your thighs, and dropping you onto the table, his fingers gripping your chin and pulling your face closer to his. 

“Want to keep acting like a fucking brat? Want to keep pissing me off?” he whispered in a look of warning, his face clearly showing he was still very mad. 

You smirked at him, “You’re still being a baby over whatever happened at work, dontcha think it’s actually time to get over it?” 

Jungwon clicked his tongue, smiling back at you. He only fucked out half of the anger he felt, still plenty more to rage out. 

He slid his fingers to the hem of your shirt, sliding it off your body and biting his lip at your now naked body as he took his shirt off and dropped it to the floor next to the rest of your clothes. 

He pushed you down aggressively against the table, his cock more red and angry than before, “Guess you still haven’t fucking learned to not fuck with me when I’m pissed.” 

You and him both knew you’d never learn.

[evie-sturns]

𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 - 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: you've been pissing chris off all day, accidentally knocking his stuff over, purposely teasing him in public, to the point where he starts to get seriously mad at you to the point where he has to put you in your place.

warnings: smut, rough!chris, use of safe word, argument, swearing.

-----------------●∘◦❀◦∘●●∘◦❀◦∘●----------------

I didn't know that what i was doing was affecting chris this much, I mean, today has just been like any other. I hung out with my boyfriend of 2 months, chris, the whole day with his brothers and friends.

he seem's to be extra on edge today, ever since i broke one of his cologne bottles.

(flashback)

hey chris, im just gonna head downstairs- SMASH

"oh fuck i'm so sorry i'll clean that up now-" i said, getting on my hands and knees and collecting the shards of black glass. "y/n just go downstairs, get out of my room please." chris spoke, glaring down at me. "i'm so sorry chris, i can buy you anothe-" i was cut off by him picking me up and placing me outside of his bedroom.

(present)

me, chris, nathan, nick and matt are sitting on the sturniolos couch as the sun sets through the window to our right, a dim light fills the living room as matt and nick have an argument, god knows what its about.

im cudding up to chris's side, my leg resting over his thigh as he scrolls on his phone aimlessly. ive been sitting here for about an hour, i think chris is still pissed about the cologne bottle incident. i hate to admit it, but chris when hes mad is the hottest version of him.

i move my leg from his thigh up to his lap, using my leg to rub him very softly through his sweatpants. he grabs my leg, pushing it off him "stop that." he whispers, shaking his head at me. "stop what?" i ask, a guilty smile tugging at the corners of my lips as i move my leg back to its original position, applying more pressure on his crotch.

right before he's about to grab my leg again nathan starts - "whos up for top golf!" he says, looking around the room with a smile on his face. "nate its late." matt speaks, leaning back against the couch.

"so you're boring?" nate tuts.

"fine, only if the others go though." nick says, standing up off the couch. "chris, y/n?" he says, looking at us.

im about to agree but chris answers for me "were staying here." he says, his tone angry.

i look at chris with a confused look, but hes back to scrolling on his phone. "well me, matt and nate are going, we'll be a few hours." nick says, grabbing his coat and phone.

matt and nathan follow nick out the door, giving me and chris a small wave before slamming the front door shut.

chris stands up, leaving me on the couch, he faces me "what the fuck is wrong with you!" he yells. "what?" i say defensively, moving back against the couch, my eyes widening from the sudden raise of his voice.

"what!!??" he mocks, before starting

"this whole day you've been on my last nerve, and I'm sick of it. You've ruined half the shit in my room then you start touching up on my dick in front of my brothers?"

my jaw is slack, in pure shock as he flames me, i can't help my attitude start to build up, i scoff "not my fault you've been sensitive and pissy all day, sorry that im clumsy today?" i bite back, rolling my eyes.

chris stares at me "you have no respect for any of my shit, youve gone and shattered my $450 cologne that nick got me and you expect me to be happy? pathetic." he yells.

a few tears drop from my eyes, i don't know why. his words aren't hurting me but he knows i can't deal with people yelling at me. my attitude keeps up though "if you're gonna be so sensitive go cry in your room christopher." i fold my arms.

chris storms out of the living room, slamming the door to the bathroom shut.

i wipe my eyes before standing up, running upstairs into chris's room. its already been decided that im staying the night here by nick, so i decide to get into my pyjamas.

i pull my shirt off over my head, revealing my white lacy bra which i especially wore for chris, i was expecting a different evening with us.

suddenly i hear the bedroom door open behind me, chris storms in before walking up to me, i swing my body around to look at him. he grabs me by my throat, i gasp loudly as he grabs me, throwing me down on the mattress.

i sink my teeth into my bottom lip as i look up at him, before pulling him down into an angry kiss. he pulls away, ripping off his shirt. "built up a bit of an attitude today haven't you?" he mumbles, yanking my shorts and panties off in one motion.

he reaches a hand under me onto my back, flipping me over onto my stomach.

he grabs my ankles, forcing me onto all fours. i whine, desperatly. "so needy aren't you." he says, yanking down his sweatpants. i look over my shoulder at him.

"hand behind your back." he demands, putting his hand out. i put my hands behind my back, chris grabs both of my wrists with one hand. holding them, forcing me to arch.

"chirs.." i groan, squirming slightly, his hand collides with my clit. "fuck!" i yelp, chris shushes me "why do you think you deserve my dick after giving me such an attitude today hm?"

he lines himself up with me, pulling my wrists closer to him, my chest and head are fully off the bed as my back arches more then i knew it ever could.

without warning her slams into me, i let out a loud cry from the sudden stretch. "dont. make. a noise." he says, slamming into me at a brutal pace. i let out pathetic whimpers as i'm held in place by him.

he reaches his spare hand round, shoving two fingers in my mouth.

chris has never been like this in bed, im in total shock as he fucks the attitude out of me.

without warning i clench around him, releasing the knot in my stomach. his thrusts don't slow, i wouldn't be wrong if i said they quickened.

im so sensitive, my vision blurry as he takes what he needs from me.

we've had a safe word established for a while, we made it while we were in a stupid mood, so it has a stupid name. 'dinosaur' , but ive never even thought about using it until now.

"chris.. chris chris." i groan, tears streaming down my face from the intensity. "fuck- d-dinosaur" i cry out, chris stops thrusting instantly, checking to see if he heard right.

"dinosaur.." i whisper.

chris pulls out instantly, he gently releases the painful grip on my wrists, as he collapses down next to me, sitting on the bed, pulling me onto his lap in a cradling me.

"hey hey.. don't cry sweetheart." he whispers into my hair, grabbing his shirt and pulling it onto me. "are you alright baby? too much?" he coos, rubbing my arms. "please speak to me gorgeous."

i nod into his chest, "im fine, just sensitive.." i stammer.

"oh okay i'm so sorry" he says, pure guilt in his voice as he stands up, holding me like a bride.

suddenly i let out a small laugh, he looks down, confusion painted across his face.

"wait.. whats funny?" he questions

"what were we thinking when we came up with that safeword." i laugh into his chest.

——-----------●∘◦❀◦∘●●∘◦❀◦∘●--------------———

this might be my last fic for a few days cause school is starting up tomorrow.

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |JJK Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: Cult Leader!Geto, Heian Era!Sukuna, Canon Gojo. A little smutty, but nothing specific.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna swears he doesn't play favorites.

He always gives the same response when prompted by Uraume- that he hated everyone equally and that if anything, they were the only person he could tolerate. That specific line of questioning always riled him up, oftentimes making him irrationally angry and defensive.

Despite what he says, everyone on the estate knows he's full of shit. No one else is dumb enough to call him on it out of fear of being brutally murdered, but it's clear he does have a favorite. That fact is only further cemented when he approaches you in the middle of the garden and publicly demands that you give him a child.

"... what?"

"Are you deaf? I need an heir and you're going to give me one. Let's go."

Just like that, you're being slung over his shoulder and carried off. You only manage a peak at Uraume before the door closes, but even they seem surprised by the sudden declaration.

When you finally reach his chambers, he sets you down on his bed and drops his robes to the floor. When you don't move to do the same, he shoots you an impatient look, but you only offer him a confused one back.

"My Lord, I apologize if this is out of line, but what brought this on?"

"I want an heir."

"Yes, but why now? And why me?"

"Are you denying me, woman?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I'm just- this is all very sudden."

After the initial spark of anger that flashes through him, he does genuinely think about it for a moment. Requesting a baby was quite the ask, and it would be in his best interest to keep you happy. Perhaps he could at the very least answer your questions...

"You are fertile."

"Is that really the only requirement you look for when considering the potential mother of your children?"

"Of course not."

He hates that little look you give him. It's pointed in a way that makes his nerves flair. It's not direct enough for him to ever call you on, but it screams defiance nonetheless.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You should feel honored to have been chosen. Be grateful, brat."

Your face doesn't change. You only cross your arms and wait for his little tantrum to pass in hopes that he'll be a more willing participant in the conversation.

"What do you want from me?"

"Honesty, My Lord. That's all."

He bares his teeth at you. It's an empty threat- that much you learned long ago. You're well aware of his soft spot for you, and while you typically don't use that against him, you really did just want answers.

In the three years you'd served him, he had never once mentioned wanting children. He'd go as far as to kill any concubine who fell pregnant or even brought the topic up. Something was most definitely amiss, and you weren't one to cave into his ridiculous demands so easily.

After a momentary standoff, he sighs and stands a bit straighter in front of you.

"You are well aware why I have chosen you."

"Am I?"

Oh, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under already. He seems almost... embarrassed? It's not something you've ever seen on him, the red tint to his cheeks and ears are undeniably different from when he's angry. His lower right hand twitches ever so slightly and you can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.

"It is possible, that I may not entirely hate you."

"Careful, My Lord, that almost sounds like a confession."

"If that is what it takes for you to agree, then so be it."

You won't get anything more out of him, at least, not today. You'd been fully expecting him to choose an easy way out, something about biology or hierarchy or whatever, but this? No, this was a thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.

"Now, as to why, My Lord?"

"Is it really so surprising to want a child with you?"

You... don't know how to answer that. His response both does and does not answer your question. You were initially looking for something more, concrete? Something like him needing a successor or maybe needing to prove himself in some way.

Whether he intended to or not, he had given you a very intimate response that you were not in the last bit prepared for.

You were very aware that he treated you differently, not just from the other concubines, but from everyone in general. You had certain privileges that others did not, like joining him for dinners and baths or sleeping in his chambers. He indulges you with little acts of affection, things like kissing and brief touches. You spoke out of turn without consequence and could get away with doing things without his explicit permission.

But all of that was a whole Hell of a lot different than wanting a family. The man would sooner die than admit to liking you, but here he was admitting to wanting children with you. Not wanting an heir, not allowing you the privilege, no- wanting children with you.

"I accept."

"You say that as if you had a choice."

"We're alone, My Lord, there's no need for the tough guy facade."

"It's not a facade. Don't forget I can kill you, woman."

"Mhm, if you say so, My Lord."

Satoru Gojo

"You know,"

He slowly slides his hands up your sides, slipping them underneath the hem of your shirt.

"With the kids being so busy nowadays, I can't help but feel like our nest is a little empty."

He moves his head from its resting position on your head to trail kisses down your face. He pauses at your lips for a moment before continuing down your neck.

"Lucky for us, I know just the thing to fix such a problem."

You're only half paying mind to the attention he's giving you, the majority of your thoughts running over his recent behavior, trying to piece together anything that could've prepared you for the current situation.

He was a little upset when Tsumiki had gone full swing into high school last year. She had lots of friends, joined a few extracurriculars, and took her classes seriously. It didn't leave her much free time for family. You understood, and so did Satoru (albeit reluctantly), but that didn't make it any less bittersweet.

With the new school year starting, Megumi had begun drifting as well, and it didn't help that he was living on campus now. Of course, Satoru was one of his mentors, but that only meant their time together was spent working.

Both kids had always been independent, most likely a side effect of their shitty unconventional upbringing, but it seemed time was only making that fact more apparent.

You'd noticed he'd been a little deflated lately, but you'd chalked it up to extra stress from the council. You never thought it would be over something like this- not that you doubted how much he loved his pseudo-family or anything, he's just never shown any particular interest in expanding at all.

Even now, aside from a few stray comments about missing the kids and prioritizing family dinners, nothing he did really popped out.

"Satoru-"

He pulled away and took your hands in his, bending down a bit to make the height difference less obvious.

"Just hear me out,"

He swallowed hard and squeezed your hands a bit tighter.

"I know it's not something we've really talked about, but I can't stop thinking about it. I love raising kids with you and I don't want it to end."

"Babies and toddlers are a lot different than kids, Satoru."

"I know."

"It's a lot of work. We'd be starting over just as they've become self sufficient."

"I know."

"There's also significant risk associated with having Satoru Gojo's biological baby."

"All the reason to work harder."

Usually, when he wants something, he gives you this sappy, wide eyed, puppy dog stare and tries to bargain wit you. This, however, is starkly different. His gaze is intense, like he's peering straight into your soul, but it's also desperate, like he wants you to say yes but for once in his life, he's not going to pressure you.

Not that he'd have to, honestly.

He's right. You have enjoyed raising kids with him. He's dorky and definitely on the irresponsible side, but he cares for Tsumiki and Megs more than anything else in the world. He'd take them to the park, engage in whatever board games they wanted to play, and always did his best to make it to school events. He's a good dad, and you aren't eager to see the end of the peak quite yet.

The house is also very quiet as of late. There's no bickering, no loud music, and no one pestering you to make snacks. There's no more homework to help out with and no more rides to give. It's rather lonely.

So you put on your best poker face, just to spook him a bit, and focus your gaze on his pretty blue eyes. He looks hopeful. He knows you well enough by now to know you're going to say yes, but that little bit of fear overshadows any certainty he has.

"I think, maybe, possibly, that our family doesn't quite feel complete just yet, and might have room for one more."

That's all the confirmation he needs before he's scooping you up, pressing sloppy kisses against any surface of your skin he can reach, and taking you straight into your shared bedroom.

Suguru Geto

He had truly never thought about the prospect of having kids before. He was seventeen when he took in the twins and life had been pretty hectic since then, not leaving much room for additional personal affairs.

But he couldn't get the girls' words out of his head.

They'd come home from school last week and told him about one of their classmates who had just received a baby brother. He wasn't sure if they knew the scope of what they were asking when they started begging for a little sibling, but it did get him thinking. So he told them he'd consider the idea and sent them off to do their homework.

He wasn't... completely against the idea. He's at a point where he has the means to provide for one more. He loves Nanako and Mimiko more than anything and he's sure he can love another kid all the same, but that wasn't the issue.

It was having another kid that was difficult. He'd essentially kidnapped the twins, and while the deed was justified, he wasn't eager to do it again. Anything formal was off the table, being a mass murderer slash cult leader, and all.

That's when you entered his field of vision. Like an answer to his prayers, you walked past him with a bright smile on your face and a quick 'Good morning Geto-sama' before running off to wherever the girls currently were.

The answer seemed a bit too obvious. You'd joined not too long after he'd taken over, offering support in any way you could. At the time, he was having a hard time adjusting to everything. Raising children was a lot harder than he'd anticipated, mostly due to the trauma they'd endured. You took some of the load off of him. You watched them while he was in meetings, cooked them meals, and made sure they got to and from school when he couldn't.

You're around his age, smart and pretty, and essentially already a mother to his kids. You loved them as much as he did, so surely, you'd be more than happy to help him out with this, right?

"You... want me to give you a baby?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that response. It was ambiguous, and your blank expression didn't lean any one way the other.

"Yes. Nanako and Mimiko would like a sibling, and I've decided to indulge them. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Geto-sama."

"I'd hope not."

Your confusion only grew. There was no precursor to this conversation. Just yesterday you were discussing the week's itinerary and what all was expected of you. He hadn't looked at you any differently, hadn't dropped any hints, or asked any strange questions. This was truly out of the blue.

You must've taken too long to continue the conversation because there's suddenly a hand grabbing yours. It's warm and rough, and despite the newness of it, it's grounding.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes. I'd like an honest answer. This will only work if both parties are consenting."

You hesitate for a moment. It's not like you haven't thought about it before. Not this specifically, but being more of a permanent fixture in Geto household. It's usually a fleeting feeling, a fantasy of sorts. You'd never allowed yourself to mull over it, assuming that it was a lost cause.

"Why me?"

A perfectly reasonable question.

"You're already a mother to my children, what's one more, hm?"

"And this baby..."

"Would be ours, if you're willing if course."

Suguru is actually pleased by your hesitation. A fair number of his followers would jump at the invitation without much thought. He finds it rather pathetic that some would follow him so blindly, so your reluctance only further cements his confidence in his decision.

"And what would all of this mean for me?"

"I suppose you'd be a wife of sorts. 'Nanny' seems a little degrading for someone bearing my child."

He laughs and it immediately cuts through any tension in the air.

While the offer is certainly jarring, denying it had yet to cross your mind. Geto is a harsh leader, sure, but he's incredibly kind to those close to him, and that extends to you. He's a great dad and loves his children, and you're sure any baby of yours would meet the same fate.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Why don't you meet me in my quarters after you put the girls to bed."

[saeist]

"... think you can help me now?"

"how many times do i have to tell you? no"

you grumbled, trying to walk away from nagumo who has been following you all morning. today was valentines day and in jcc, it was just an ordinary day with the exception of handing out chocolate to your crushes— something you'll never do nor receive

nagumo huffs, picking up his pace to catch up with you. when he gets in your way, he holds his hands up in defense when you raise your arm, ready to hit him

"wait! before you hit me.. hear me out first!" he pleads

you give him a look that basically screams 'it better be fuckin' worth it'

nagumo reads your face for a reaction and when the coast was clear, he takes a deep breath before he starts explaining why he needed you to help him

"you're the only one i know who can successfully scare the girls away.. so why not ask you to fake date me just for today!" nagumo chirps, a stupid smile on his face as he babbles on about his current dilemma about receiving 152 chocolates from different girls from different departments

you can feel a vein pop on your forehead as you actually stood there and thought that nagumo may have a serious problem that he needed your help specifically

"who even told you i'd help you? rion? i doubt she did" you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief. there was actually no way in hell that rion told nagumo that you'd help him out of all people for some petty problem of his

"she did actually" nagumo laughs, fishing his phone out of his pocket to show you his messages with rion

[10:21 AM] akao: yeah y/n can totally help you with that [10:23 AM] nagumo: you think so? :00 [10:27 AM] akao: totally. she just told me rn.

you are so going to kill rion

on the corner of nagumo's eye, he spots another wave of girls looking around, probably looking for him

tired from being asked out multiple times today, nagumo may or may not have mentioned to all the girls who have come up to him today that he was seeing someone

some took it lightly and dropped the subject but some were still persistent. even accusing nagumo of lying because they've been watching him all day and they haven't seen him remotely close with his "significant other"

that's where you come in

the same girl who was persistent on asking nagumo out, pops out of no where and walks up to you and nagumo

"is this your girlfriend you were talking about?" the girl raises an eyebrow, looking between you and nagumo. nagumo, who kept his cool despite the girl's abrupt appearance and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you plush against him

"yep" nagumo says, popping the 'p', "this is my girlfriend i told you about"

your eye twitches at the introduction. you haven't even given him your approval of such act. one second he was asking for permission, the next he was already claiming you as his own

what the fuck, nagumo?

the girl notices your demeanour, totally not buying nagumo's bullshit lie one bit

"oh really now? then kiss her if she really is your girlfriend because it's looking like she doesn't like you touching her" the girl says smug, crossing her arms as she basically challenges the nagumo yoichi

without a second thought, nagumo cups your face and smashes your lips together

your eyes widened as you try to process everything, all at once

nagumo gives it like 5 seconds of kissing you deeply that it honestly got you weak in the knees at the absurdity of it. when he pulls away, the girl had already left. leaving you and him alone in the jcc hallway

"oh wow that was easy–"

you cut nagumo off by shoving him against the lockers, your hands on his neck. nagumo whistles lowly and holds his hands out in surrender

"woah. sorry 'bout that. had to take care of that little pesky thing" he reasons, lips curling to a eat shitting green seeing your face was all red

"nagumo, i'm going to fucking kill you" you grit your teeth

nagumo suddenly pulls something out of his back pocket. it was a chocolate bar. he holds it out in front of you like it's some kind of peace offering

"chocolate?"

"NAGUMO!"

"happy valentines day, fake girlfriend"

[1:40 PM] akao: told you she'd help you lol

[1:43 PM] rion <3: tell nagumo one chocolate bar isn't enough for the two of us! [1:44 PM] you: i'm going to kill you. [1:45 PM] rion <3: awwe. happy vday too, bb.

[grimesve1l]

First day on the job

Read previous part here

Summary: You start your new job at the country club

Warnings: Swearing, suggestiveness, smut (mdni), oral f!receiving, p in v

You were getting ready for your first day as a cart girl at the country club. You felt fairly prepared as you'd been through the little training that it required. You had put your hair up in a ponytail and threw on your uniform that consisted of a polo shirt and skirt. Rafe had offered to drive you there as he was already planning on golfing and honestly just wanted another excuse to see you.

Rafe was lying on your bed watching as you put the finishing touches on your makeup. "So I just drive around asking the golfers if they want something?" you ask. "Pretty much. You just grab beers and mix drinks and you keep the tips." he says. "You gonna give me a tip?" you asklooking back at Rafe.

"I got a tip I can give you right now." he replies. you chuckle before saying "That's not the kinda tip I was talking about Rafe." "Y'all are weird." Barry says walking into the room. "You ready to serve them kooky golfers?" he asks sitting in your vanity chair after you get up to grab your shoes.

"I guess. They can't be that bad." you reply, putting your shoe on. "Some of them can be assholes. It's mainly the old ones." Rafe says. "Shit maybe for you. For people like me and Y/n all y'all are assholes." Barry butts in. "Well i'll be there so if anybody fucks with you just call me." Rafe says

"Why do y'all assume I can't hold my own? I literally carry a gun in my purse and honestly I don't even need it." you say spraying your perfume before throwing it in your purse. "Yeah maybe try not to shoot anyone on your first day." Rafe says standing up. "I'm just saying" you reply going to give Barry a goodbye hug.

You two walk outside and get in Rafes truck. The drive is long so you both make small talk along the way. Eventually they pull up in front of the county club. "Damn this place is nice. I see why y'all come here." you say. "It's alright." Rafe replies. "Okay let's go." you say.

You two hop out of the truck and head inside. "I gotta go back there" you point to a door in the country club. "Okay i'll see you later. Find me out on the course. Yeah?" Rafe says giving you a peck on the lips and a pat on the back of your thigh. "I will." you say turning to leave.

You make your way to the back where the other cart girls are. "Hey, can i talk to you?" one of the girls asks approaching you with another girl following close behind. "What's up?" you respond. "Was that Rafe Cameron that dropped you off?" the girl asks. "Yeah?" you say confused.

"What about him?" you add beginning to become defensive. "Just don't think you're special. Okay?" the girl says with a sarcastic smile. "Oh you're one of those girls." you say. "What girls?" the girl responds confused. "The kind that think their entire purpose is to get with a guy." you say.

You put your hand on the girls arm before adding "Trust me you are worth so much more than that." Y/n says with the same sarcastic smile. The girl just scoffs and walks away. "Nice talk." you mumble to herself before going to check your cart.

Once you see that it's all stocked you head out for the course. You drive for a little before you come across some golfers. You call out if they need anything and they motion for you to come over. You pull over near them and ask what you can get them.

"Let me get a bloody mary." the older man says. "I'll have the same. his friend says. You work on their drinks while asking them how their day's been. "Better now that you're here. Say, are you new? I don't think i've seen your pretty face riding around before."

You laugh off the compliment before replying "Yep, today's my first day and y'all are my first customers." "Well ain't we lucky?" the guy replies as you finish the drinks. "That'll be twenty four dollars. Cash or card" you ask. "Cash, and keep the change hun." he says handing you a fifty dollar bill.

You thank him before driving away to see who needs something next. You served a couple more golfers before you heard a familiar voice calling for you. "Hey you! Yeah you, sexy girl in the cart come here." You could see other people judging Rafe and his foul mouth but you knew he didn't care.

You pull the cart over to where Rafe and his friends are and asks what you can do for them. "I know something you could do for me." he responds. "I mean drink wise Rafe." you respond hopping out of the cart. "You got any beers?" Kelce asks. "Y'all got some ID?" you ask jokingly. "I'm just fucking with y'all. I'll grab them." you say going to the cooler at the back of the cart.

Rafe follows you and wraps his arms around your waist from behind. "You look so hot right now." he whispers in your ear. "Rafe, i'm working." you whine . He ducks his head to press a kiss below your ear before giving her a you on the ass and returning to his friends.

After you catch your breath you grabs the beers and hand them out. "That'll be twenty one dollars. Cash or card?" she asks. "Here, keep the change." Rafe says handing you a hundred dollar bill. "Rafe..." you begin. "Nah, take it." he says before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

"You get off at six, right?" he asks. "Yeah." you respond. "Alright, i'll wait for you by the bar." he says. You drive away and continue with this routine until it's time for you to get off. You make your way over to the bar where Rafe said he'd be and you find him sitting facing away from you.

You creep up behind him and puts your hands over his eyes. "Guess who?" you ask playfully. "I don't know, kinda sounds like Barry." he says. your jaw drops as Rafe begins to laugh. "You did not just say that." you say shocked but laughing as well.

"You guys are related you two sound similar." Rafe says standing up from his seat. "Yeah right." you say turning to walk with Rafe. He puts his arm around your shoulder as you two walk to his truck. He opens the door for you and goes around to the other side to get in.

He starts the truck and starts driving towards your house. When they get to the house they see that Barry's car isn't there. "Come inside." you tell him. "I don't know it's getting kinda late and..." Before Rafe can finish his sentence you put your hand on his thigh and whisper "Please?" in his ear. "Fuck it." he says as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

You both hastily hop out of the truck and make your way to the front door. You fiddle with your keys trying to find the right one as Rafe trails kisses down your neck and lets his hands roam your body. You eventually unlock the door and the two of you stumble into the living room.

Rafe backs you against the wall and continues his assault on your neck. His hands move to the back of your thighs as he mutters "Jump" before going back to your neck. You jumps and wraps your legs around his waist as he carry's you to your bedroom. On the way you start leaving kisses of your own and even start making out with him before he lays you down on your bed.

You sit up and look at him as you both pause. "Do you wanna do this?" he asks. "Yeah, do you?" you respond. "Hell yeah i do." the two of you laugh at his response before continuing. He takes his shirt before crawling back on top of you. "You're so beautiful." he says as he goes to pull your top off as well.

He reaches behind you to unclip your bra and watches as you slide it off. "God damn." he mutters. "You like what you see?" you ask. He doesn't respond and instead moves to bring one of your nipples into his mouth while he use his hand to fondle the other. You arch your back and moans as he continues.

He begins to kiss down your chest and stomach until he reaches the hem of your skirt. He looks up for confirmation before he goes farther. You look down at him and nods before laying your head back on the bed. He pulls down your skirt and panties at the same time.

He looks down at you from your feet to her head. "God you're gorgeous." he says before moving to spread your legs. He looks at your cunt glistening with arousal and runs his finger through it. "Rafe please." you whine. "Please what baby?" he teases. "Do something." you reply.

He brings his head down to be eye level with your cunt and uses his hands to spread your folds. He licks a stripe from your hole to her clit. This makes you moan and bring your hand down to tug on your hair. "You like that?" Rafe asks. "Please don't stop." You plead holding his head against you.

Rafe inserts a finger into you and starts thrusting it in and out watching as your juices drip onto his hand. He flicks his tongue against your clit as you continue to pull on his hair keeping him in place. "Rafe please, I need you to fuck me." you say. He removes his finger and stands up from the bed to take off his pants.

You move father up the bed and spreads your legs for him. He goes to lay back on top of you but this time he takes his dick in his hand and lines it up with your entrance. He slowly inches himself in as your jaw drops and your head falls back onto the pillows. His breath hitches as he finally fully makes his way inside.

He pulls back slowly and starts building momentum with each thrust. "Oh fuck Rafe." you moan out. "Harder." you plead. Rafe decided to take your legs and place them over his shoulders as he leans over you. This way he's able to fuck into her deeper. "Shit, feels so good." he grunts out as he moves his hand to play with your clit.

"Oh my God." you cry out raking your nails down his back. "Rafe i'm close." you say arching her back uncontrollably. "Cum baby." Rafe tells you as he continues to fuck into your dripping hole. You immediately let go and gush around his cock as your legs start to shake. He continues for a few moments before he pulls out and cums on your stomach.

Neither of you say anything as they let the after shock of their orgasms flow through them. You're the first to speak. "So that's the tip you had for me?" you ask still out of breath. The two of you laugh when you suddenly hear the front door open. "Yo! Where y'all at." you both hear Barry call out. "Shit!" you say scrambling to get under the covers.

Rafe fumbles as well but unfortunately for him he wasnt fast enough. "Damn y'all don't know how to close doors or sum?" Barry says from the hallway where he can see into your room. "Now I gotta go get high enough to where I don't remember seeing Rafes bare ass." you giggle before calling out "Sorry."

A/n: first time writing smut definitely a learning curve but i still like how this turned out and hope y'all do too!

Find more of my stuff here :p

[starringthesturniolos]

baby it's cold outside - chris sturniolo

summary: you are forced to share the air mattress with your long time enemy, chris, on a camping trip.

"Since you two wanted to argue the whole way up, you guys get to share a tent together. Yay!!", Matt says while jumping up and down in fake excitement.

On the way to the camp site, Chris and I did argue a lot. But in my defense, the idiot kept pushing my buttons! He kept turning my least favorite songs on and blasting them at full volume so I couldn't sleep. When we stopped at 7/11 he grabbed the last of my favorite drink and gulped it down in front of me. When we finally arrived, he dumped all my heavy bags on the ground and laughed at me struggling to pick them up. It was like he was asking to get yelled at, or like he wanted me to be mad at him.

"No, Matt please!" I grab onto his arm desperately. "I'm sorry but please don't make me stay with him!"

Matt rolls his eyes at me and folds his arms over his chest. "Would you rather sleep outside then?" I scoff and shoot a glare towards Chris who isn't standing too far behind Matt. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Sleep outside then. That's fine by me, princess." Chris sneers responding to my comment while turning his back on me to set up his tent. I take three deep breathes and close my eyes. I am not going to let this idiot keep getting under my skin. I stomp away from Matt and Chris over to the log Nick was sitting on and he laughs at me.

"Well hello, Mrs. Grumpy"

"Oh shut up" you sigh.

I plop my bag down on the floor, my chest heaving from hauling ass. I had to carry my heavy bags all the way from where Chris dropped them earlier today to the tent. He was laying all comfortable in his set up of blankets and the sight alone pissed me off.

"Thought you were sleeping outside tonight. Is it because you're scared of the animals, princess?" he sneers out the nickname like I'm more of an ogre than a princess. Why is he always so fucking annoying.

"Leave me alone, and I leave you alone. I'm going to bed. I'm tired and I'm not here for the bullshit." I say as I reach into my bag for my sleeping bag. My sleeping bag. Holy shit.

"Shit, shit, shit" you dump out your bag and see no sleeping bag in sight. Its cold out and the thought of sleeping without any covering made a shiver crawl down your spine.

"What is it now??" Chris sits up and turns the flashlight on in an exasperated manner. You sigh deeply. "It's nothing, go to bed Chris." He shrugs and lies down again, turning his back to me. I didn't need to give him another reason to tease me tonight. I flop on the ground on the opposite side of the tent from him and curl up into a ball. I can feel myself shivering but I try to ignore it.

Thinking back on when I first met the triplets in 3rd grade, I remember how cute I thought Chris was. I met Nick and Matt on the bus ride home from school one day when Chris was sick. The next day, me, Matt, and Nick were playing tag at recess when Chris walked out with a doctors note in hand. He walked over to his brothers and my heart skipped a beat. Immediately, Nick and Matt went to introduce me. "Chris! This is-" before Nick could even finish his sentence, Chris was already talking. "Well, isn't she a looker" he chuckles sarcastically while looking down at me, clearly judging me. I also looked down at my two loose braids and hand me down clothes and sigh. "Am I really that ugly" I thought to myself. I knew I probably shouldn't have let a boy that I hardly knew opinion get to me, but the tears came nonetheless." I wanted him to like me" you thought to yourself, wallowing in self pity. I was cut out of my trance when Chris started to laugh sporadically. "What? What is it?" I mutter looking at Chris and then too Matt and Nick who look embarrassed by their brothers rude antics. "Nothing, nothing. Its just... You're even uglier when you cry!" he starts laughing even harder. I felt myself start to shake from embarrassment and anger. Who did he think he was. "Your mean!" I stomped my foot which only made him laugh harder. I couldn't take anymore harassment in one day, and turned on my heel and ran away with Nick and Matt right on my heels.

After all these years he still hasn't changed. "Y/N, HELLO!!" Chris yells bringing me back to the present. "What?".

"Where the fuck is your sleeping bag?" he asks. I sit up from where I was laying to face him. He was now laying down with his body faced in my direction.

"Oh my God, clearly not here or I'd be using it, dumbass." I roll my eyes and go to lay back down.

"Lose the attitude and come stay in the bed with me" he mutters before I can return to my balled up position. My mouth flys open. Since when did he care if I was cold or not. "Wait, what?" I say in shock.

"Get the fuck up and come here. Nick and Matt will punch me in the throat if you catch a cold." he says nonchalantly as if it's normal for people that hate each other to share a bed. I roll my eyes again. I'm not sharing a bed with an asshole, even if it causes me to freeze to death. "No thanks" I scoff, preparing to lay back down again.

He sighs exasperated and moves from his comfortable position in his blankets. He stands up and starts walking towards me. I feel my throat start to tense up. "What are you doing?" fear creeping into my tone. Once he reaches me, he grips underneath my thighs with one hand and tries to support my back with the other. Desperately, I try to wiggle out of his grasp but too no avail. I am in his arms in no time. It takes everything in me to not sink into his warm chest. I didn't realize how cold I was until this exact moment. Suddenly I start to panic again when he starts to walk because I have no idea where he's taking me. Then I think of the worst. "Are you seriously gonna throw me out the tent. Come on Chris, do you really hate me that much??"

He stops moving entirely and he looks down at me. God the way he looks looking down at me is enough to be in any girls dream. Too bad he's just a big dickhead. "You weren't listening to me. So now I'm forcing you to stay with me on the air mattress." he pauses before continuing, almost like he doesn't want to say what he's going to say next. He sighs and continues on, "You were shivering really bad while you were in La La land. I didn't want you too freeze anymore." He had a glimmer of concern in eyes when he said it and that's all it takes for me to believe him. I hate the way my cheeks warm up from the honest confession. It meant he cared, and it shouldn't matter to me but it does.

He starts to walk again, seeing I had no response and plops me down on the mattress. He flops down right beside me, and even though it's warmer with the blankets, it's not enough. Another shiver racks through me. "Y/n??" Chris doesn't even try to hide the concern in his voice. "Do you need me closer? Will that help?" he looks at me waiting for my call. The thought of Chris getting close to me is enough to make my head spin. And as much as I wish being in Chris' arms would repeal me, it doesn't. Instead I feel my heart skip a beat like they did all those years ago. Get it together Y/n.

"Yes" I whisper. Chris doesn't need to be told twice and he pulls me impossibly close to his body. He grabs my thigh and puts it around his waist and then pulls my head into his chest. All I can sense is him. Instead of it annoying me, I lean into his scent and his warmth. In my heart I know that even if it was the hottest night of all time, I'd still enjoy being wrapped in him like this. And I hated myself for it. I melt into his arms and feel myself getting lulled to sleep. Just as I'm about to fall asleep I feel his lips graze my hair. " I could never hate you, angel, not in a million years. I'm sorry". And with those words, I fall asleep in his arms.

Send in request, I could always use some more inspo

Love, Mya

[amphitriteswife]

Jaegyeon na dating headcanons! Sfw and Nsfw

I was too impatient to finish the other ones so yeah-

@yue-yolk

_______________

✨ Dating Jaegyeon na means you’re dating the definition of a mood swing. Sometimes he’s all flirty and confident, the other he’s childish and whiny.

✨ He likes it if you ask him to drop you off somewhere or pick you up. He shows off Initial N and calls it his ‘baby’. Don’t call it junk or he’ll lose his shit.

✨ Loves shopping. If you tell him you’re shopping he’ll either ask to go with you or invites himself. Usually ends up buying expensive clothes and necklaces. They’re not for you though. This one’s for him. He’ll buy yours next time

✨ ‘hey Y/n get me ice cream’ ‘no get it yourself.’ ‘Could’ve told me to cut off my balls as well.’ He takes little things seriously. Not always but usually. Sometimes its for comical reasons and sometimes he’s just insecure

✨ fragile masculinity. He’s the type to freak out if you call him pretty boy because ‘he’s not pretty. He’s handsome.’ He thinks of himself as very manly man.

✨ LOVES kissing. Doesn’t even have to be intimate, he just likes kisses or kissing. You did something nice for him? He gives you a kiss on the forehead. He missed you? He kisses your cheek. He just feels happy? He’s placing his lips on yours. They’re not always super long, sometimes just a peck.

✨ very active on socials. He watches your stories everyday and likes your every post. Always responds to them too, sometimes goofy and sometimes serious. Or its just an excuse to text you. ‘Babes plz buy me that too i want to be matchy.’ ‘Babee who’s that in your story?’ ‘Stop putting DG in your story his music isn’t that good. I’m better looking.’

✨ He’s a jealous boyfriend. No matter what gender or who it is he’s still jealous. He’ll also get defensive about it and start sulking if you point it out. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s sometimes feeling like that.

✨ babe. Who is that in your instagram story?’ ‘Thats my best friend. You met her.’ ‘Okay but even so why am I not your only bestie????’

✨ ‘babe why are you saying happy birthday in your story?’ ‘Because one of my friend is having their birthday.’ ‘Okay but you didn’t even congratulate me today too?’ It was in fact not his birthday he just wanted attention.

✨ Attention seeker. Man cannot stand you having eyes for someone else, well just being very close to someone that isn’t him. He wants to be your bestie and boyfriend. Just like how you are to him. He wants to be your number one. Just like how you are…together with Initial N.

✨ You can see him kissing his car sometimes. He’s not even embarrassed by it, but he does make it a point if you say that it’s disgusting. ‘You’re just jealous that i kiss my baby a lot….i love you dont leave me.’

✨ NEEDS to sleep in your bed. He hijacked it. He thinks your bed and house is more comfortable than his so he sleeps over a lot of times. He likes snuggling up to you though, especially in the winter

✨ if he’s at your house he makes himself comfortable very fast. Its yalls house now. He usually goes into your closet or looks trough most of your stuff to see what you do and don’t have

✨ He does online shopping a lot, mostly buys clothes or unnecessary and stupid things since he’s rich and has money to waste. This time he did buy you things too.

✨ Likes outgoing dates, he likes parties, clubbing and concerts but also enjoys museums, markets and cinema’s. Anything you like too. He’ll probably make your hobby his own so that he can see you get happy about it.

✨ He probably does car racing in his free time and usually takes you with him. Most of the time he only watched and just stays by your side. If he’s out racing and sees you with another guy, he’ll get jealous and give you the silent treatment

🔞 Man’s a horny dog okay? He’e not always like that but sometimes. Sometimes it can get real intimate. He’s not ashamed by it either. And if you match his freakiness its even better

🔞 Calls you ‘princess’ or ‘queen’ depending on which one you prefer. He takes pride in it if you like the nickname too and uses it regularly. But usually his voice is soft and a little hoarse when he does.

🔞 He might moan his own name or Inital N during sex on accident. It’s an honest mistake okay? ‘Ugh King you’re doing great.’ ‘The hell????’ ‘Sorry babes I got carried away’

🔞This man is sensitive asf. Touch his body with your hands. He loves it. The way your hand glides across his skin and squeezes his muscles…the way your lips press against his neck and whispered against it…he might come only by that.

🔞 definition of a switch but is definitely leaning on a little more bratty sub side. He will not listen to you. He’ll act super childish and selfish about it too.

🔞 car sex. And no he’s not fucking initial N. It’s with you in the car. He gets off if he thinks about you and him doing it in the car, don’t ask him why he doesn’t know it either. Don’t stain his seats tho, but he’ll definitely do it in the backseat or while he’s driving.

🔞 receiver. HEAVY receiver. Make him feel good. He’ll be at your mercy if you do it. Do anything to him. Gag him while you ride him. Choke him while you kiss him. Make him cry out your name out of pleasure

🔞 praise kink. Whisper those sweet seductive words in his ear and he’ll crumble right under your nose. He’ll beg and cry if you ask him too. Make him feel as if you’re the only one who can do this to him.

🔞 suck him while he’s driving. The mix of arousal and self control with trying to keep his eyes on the road will definitely make him feel hot.

🔞 He cums a lot. And fast. You’d only have to touch him and you’d already see the wet spot in his pants along with a tent. Make him stroke himself trough his pants because you refuse to touch him anymore and you’ll see him absolutely flabbergasted

🔞 he might have a thing for if you slap his face. He likes it if you handle him roughly because he’s been a brat. Put a gag in his mouth and you’ll get extra points. Man handle him please

🔞 loves Handjobs, he thinks it’s super hot or he’s lowkey embarrassed. Don’t ask him why he’ll get defensive, but he 100% likes the feeling of your hands stroking his sensitive skin

Thank yall for reading 🥶🙏

[puckinghischier]

Surprise…?

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke gets hurt during a game

notes: y’all i think i struggle writing luke for some reason. i just never seem to really like what i write when i write for him. wtf am i doing wrong 😩

request: can you do a post on luke Hughes getting badly injured the game at umich and both older brothers are there and get worried over him and major fluff

i strayed away a bit from the michigan aspect because i don’t feel comfy writing about college hockey players, so i changed it up a bit. i hope you still enjoy!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

There weren’t many times you regretted moving to Jersey, but right now was one of them. The constant traffic within the city wasn’t something that usually got under your skin, but today it was the absolute bane of your existence. Of course, you were in a hurry. A big one. You had approximately thirty minutes until puck drop, and you needed to get there before that puck hit that ice. No exceptions. You hadn’t told Luke what you were doing, so he probably already expected you to be there, wondering why you’re not in your usual seat for warm-ups.

As if he could hear your thoughts, your phone buzzed with a message from Luke, not being able to read what it said while trying to weave in and out of traffic.

“Quinn, can you see what Luke just sent. And then tell him I’m on my way. I don’t want him worrying that I’m not showing tonight,” you ask the Hughes brother currently in your passenger seat.

Quinn grabbed your phone from the cupholder, listening to you rattle off your passcode so he can open Luke’s message.

“He asked where you were, and if you were already there. Wanted to know why you weren’t in your seat for warm ups,” Quinn confirms your thoughts, looking to you for an answer.

“Tell him I’m just running late. Be there before puck drop. And tell him I love him and good luck.”

You hear the sound of Quinn typing your reply as you increase your speed, cursing the people who want to drive below the speed limit in the fast lane. This is what you get for trying to be a good girlfriend and surprise your boyfriend and his brother. You get stuck on the road with New Jersey’s worst drivers.

In your defense, you were supposed to already be safely at the arena in your seats, but Quinn’s airline had different plans. His flight being delayed by three hours gave you barely enough time to run and grab him from the airport and make it back to the Rock before the hockey game started. The only thing saving your ass right now is the fact that if you can just get there, you can go through the player entrance and avoid the crowds trying to get in at the last minute.

“If you don’t calm down and drive like a sane person, we’re never going to get there. We’ll be squashed on the side of the road,” Quinn scolds you, grasping what your dad always called the ‘oh shit’ handles.

“If I can just get around these idiots in front of me we’ll be fine. We’re almost at our exit, then I just have to pull around back and we’re in,” you tell him, once again pressing the gas pedal a little harder.

Quinn stays silent the rest of the drive, closing his eyes once you start speeding around the other cars on the freeway, finally getting to the right exit and rushing to the underground parking that the players always park in. You pull your car into the spot next to Jack’s, barely even turning the car off before you’re jumping out and sprinting to the entrance.

“C’mon, Quinn! I know you can move faster than that! We only have a few minutes! Move it!” You yell over your shoulder, Quinn barely having gotten out of the car.

“Remind me to never let you drive ever again,” is all he says as he catches up to you, looking a little greener than before.

The two of you make it inside the arena with no issues, sprinting to your seats just as the national anthem finishes, both teams sending their starting lines out on the ice.

You had managed to snag Quinn a seat next to you, asking the team’s manager for a favor to help surprise their rookie defenseman. With no hesitation, he handed you a ticket and a locker room pass for Quinn, knowing how homesick Luke had been lately. You had thanked him a million times, asking him to keep it a secret from both Jack and Luke, not wanting either one of them to know until the day of. He gave you his word, and was also the reason you were given access to the player parking for the night, not wanting Quinn to be ambushed by fans going through the regular entrance.

You felt your heart rate start to slow once you were both situated in your seats, glad that you had made it in time. Neither Jack nor Luke had looked over and noticed you yet. You wondered if they were going to clock Quinn before they took their stances on the ice.

Your question was soon answered as Jack looked back and saw you, waving and turning to get Luke’s attention before he did a double take, noticing the brunette sitting to you left. Quinn gave a small wave, flashing his younger brother a smile as you watched Jack’s eyes widen, mouth curving into beaming smile. Luke had turned back, looking in your direction, a relieved smile on his face once he noticed you were finally in your spot, eyes too focused on your figure to notice Quinn’s next to you. It wasn’t until he looked over at Jack and followed his gaze that he finally noticed his oldest brother in the crowd, a Devil’s hat on his head.

Luke’s eyes flicked over to you once again, mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ to you, your only response a shrug of the shoulders and a smirk on your face.

The two brothers quickly focused their attention to the officials on the ice, lowered into their stances, waiting for the puck to drop onto the ice.

“You know they’re going to compete now, right?” Quinn says as he elbows you to get your attention.

“Why would they compete? They’re literally playing for the same team. It doesn’t matter who scores as long as the team wins,” you respond, confused at Quinn’s words.

“It matters now. They do the same thing when mom or dad come to watch them. They want the praise. They want to be able to out perform the other so they can brag about it to me after the game,” Quinn clarifies.

“I don’t know about that. Jack’s been good about trying to set Luke up for success all year, I think they’ll surprise you.”

Quinn gives you a skeptical look, not believing your words, but lets it go otherwise; his attention quickly stolen by the sound of the puck hitting the ice, followed by clashing sticks and skates scraping against the frozen floor.

Much to your surprise, Quinn proved to be right. All throughout the first period, the two brothers fought to get the puck, sometimes even fighting against one another. You noticed the odd looks from their teammates, Nico even skating over to Jack during a tv timeout to ask him what was up, not having seen the pair act like this before. You kept throwing glares at Luke, trying to tell him to knock it off, that they’re playing for the same team, but he wouldn’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time.

As the second period started, the competition between Jack and Luke had nearly ceased to exist. You assumed they got their asses chewed in the locker room during the intermission, noting how their coach seemed to watch them like a hawk. Once the brothers started actually playing together instead of against one another, the Devil’s were scoring goals left and right, putting up four goals before the end of the second period, one Luke’s and two being Jack’s.

With only three minutes left in the second period, Luke was attempting to get possession of the puck from behind the net, fighting two of the opposing players for the black piece of rubber. He lost control of the puck, and in a moment of frustration, pushed one of the enemy players in the back, wanting out of the sandwich they had put him in. The player he pushed fell forward onto the ice, drawing a penalty on Luke. The official had blown the whistle, stopping gameplay, when Luke looked over at him, frustrated at the call.

What Luke didn’t see was the player who had gotten the puck come skating up behind him at full speed, pushing Luke so hard his skates came out from under him, causing him to land on the ice on his back. He was angled just enough, though, that his body slid at high speed straight into the bottom of the wall a few feet away, head bouncing off the boards along the ice.

You were on your feet immediately, hands flying to the glass in front of you, begging for him to get up. Quinn jumped to his feet next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, whether to comfort you or himself, you don’t know. Jack leaves his spot on the bench to skate over to his brother, falling to his knees on the ice, hovering above Luke.

Luke hadn’t moved yet. Not a foot twitch, a roll over in pain, or a thumbs up to let anyone know he’s okay. He’s laying lifeless on the ice, trainers calling his name, careful not to touch his head or neck. Your hand flies to cover your mouth, a sob making its way out of you when you noticed the stretcher being put on stand-by near the tunnel. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, time stopped as Luke continues to lay, unmoving. Quinn tries to move you back from the glass, averting your attention from the scene in front of you, but your eyes are glued to Luke’s body.

You thought you imagined the twitch of his foot, thinking it was where the medics were tapping his leg, trying to coax him awake. When you finally see his body try to roll over, you let out the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. Your relief was short-lived, however, when you hear the scream that makes its way out of Luke’s throat. You’re not sure which one hurt worse, him lying there not moving or the scream of agony that’s currently echoing through the arena.

Your knees start to give out, eyes blurring from the tears falling down your face. Quinn catches you as you slide down the glass, holding your sobbing figure in a crouched position.

“Quinn, gotta go. Gotta go, locker rooms,” you manage to say between sobs, trying to stand and make your way out of the stands.

“Okay, yeah, let’s go. Let’s get you out of here.”

The fans watch as Quinn guides you out of your seats and up the stairs. Most of them familiar with you, you and Luke not being super private with your relationship. A lot of them are still shouting obscenities at the player who went after Luke, demanding he be suspended. Some of them give you sad smiles as you pass, hoping your rookie is okay.

You finally reach the entrance to the training room, knowing this is where they’ll have taken him before they decide if he needs a hospital or not. You can hear them in there talking to him, unsure if you should enter yet or wait on someone to come out and get you. You stand at the doors, staring into space, when Quinn decides to speak up.

“He’s gonna be fine, Y/N. Probably a gnarly bruise, and likely a concussion, but it could’ve been worse. I know its scary, but I promise, he’s going to be okay. Might not even miss more than a game or two.”

All you can do is nod at the words, unable to do much else at the moment. You try to give a small smile, but you think it comes across as more of a grimace. You turn your head when you hear the door to the training room opens, revealing one of the team trainers.

“Oh, good, you’re already down here. He’s asking for you. Wants you to know he’s awake and okay. Nothing’s broken, just banged up and a mild concussion. Probably going to have him follow up with a doctor tomorrow, but for now he just needs rest. You can go ahead and go in. He won’t be playing the rest of the night,” the man in front of you finishes, stepping aside so you can walk through the open door.

You turn back to look at Quinn, seeing if he’s going to come with you.

“I’ll just give you two a minute first. Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” he tells you, wanting a minute to process his own emotions before seeing his baby brother.

You nod and turn to walk into the training room, following the trainer down a short hallway before turning the corner into a room with three different treatment tables, Luke’s long body taking up the farthest one. His head is laying back on a pillow, a large ice pack taped to his right shoulder. His gear is laying in a pile on the floor next to him, completely bare from the waist up. As you get closer, you can see the already purple skin forming in the exposed parts of his shoulder and upper arm. You gasp quietly at the bruised skin, causing Luke’s head to snap up at the sound.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he rasps out, voice raw from his screams earlier.

You stop on the side of the bed opposite to his injury, unable to say anything yet. Tears still streaming down your face, looking him over for any other signs of injury.

“Hey, no need to cry, angel. I’m okay, see. Just a little bruise. Nothing to be worried about. You should see the other guy,” he tries to joke, being told he left a dent in the wall where he hit.

You glare at him through your tears, unhappy with his weak attempt at joke.

“Okay, yeah, maybe not the time to joke just yet,” he brings the hand on his good arm up to rub the back of his neck, looking away from your tear-stained face.

“You were unconscious, Luke…you weren’t moving,” is all you managed, staring at his injured shoulder.

“I know, baby, I know. But I’m awake now, see?” he gestures towards his body with his good arm. “I’m just fine. Yapping ability unaffected,” he once again tries to bring a smile to your face, this time it almost works.

“God, Luke, if you could’ve heard the scream you let out,” you shudder at the memory. “It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life. I thought my heart was going to rip in two right there on the spot. I don’t ever want to hear the sound again,” you finally look at his face, noting the small cut on his forehead, you assume from his helmet.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to witness all of it. I can’t imagine how it must’ve looked,” his tone apologetic. “If the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would have been able to keep myself from trying to climb over the glass to get to you. But I promise, sweetheart, I’m fine. Told me as long as my head’s fine I should only have to miss two or three games to let the bruise run its course,” he grabs your hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“It was just so scary, Luke,” you sniffle, closing your eyes for a brief moment. You finally start to calm down now that his hand is in yours.

“I know. But now you get to play doctor and take care of me for a few days. Kiss all my boo boo’s better,” Luke wiggles his eyebrows at you, finally earning that laugh he’s been trying to get out of you since you walked in.

“That was probably one of the ickiest things you’ve ever said to me,” you laugh with Luke, fake gagging for dramatic effect.

Luke opens his mouth to say something else, but the the doors to the training room open, cutting him off. The familiar sound of skates against the floor making their way towards the two of you. Jack turns the corner, a frantic look in his eyes until he lands on Luke, awake and sitting up.

“I’m going to kill you for scaring me like that,” Jack points a finger, glaring at his younger brother. “I mean, why the fuck did you hit him, Luke! What were you thinking? You know how these guys are, they’re begging for any excuse to fight! They don’t care if you’re a 20 something rookie, they’re gonna hit back, dumbass!” Jack yells at Luke, throwing his arms around in frustration.

Luke winces at the volume of Jack’s voice, his ears sensitive to loud noises right now. Before you can get the words out to tell Jack to be quieter, Quinn enters the room and does it for you.

“Jack, be quiet for fuck’s sake. He has a concussion; you yelling at him is only going to make it worse. Yell at him later.”

“Well, it was stupid, Q. What he did was stupid,” Jack says in a normal tone of voice, still angry.  

“Don’t act like you’ve never done anything stupid on the ice before. Just because you never get caught when you hit people doesn’t mean you don’t do it,” Quinn walks over to stand beside Jack at the end of the table.

“You good, Moose? Looked pretty nasty out there from where I was sitting. Scared us, man,” Quinn asks Luke, tapping him on the foot. You note the redness of Quinn’s eyes, knowing how much he cares for both of his brothers. The whole situation shook him up, too, you were just too worried about Luke to notice at the time.

“Yeah, m’alright. Head hurts. Shoulder feels like it’s been run over by the ‘boni, but other than that I got off pretty clean. Nothing’s broken. Have to miss two games at least, more if my head ain’t right,” Luke answers Quinn, moving his hand so he can thread his fingers through yours.

“Your head’s never been right, Moose,” Jack says, causing Luke to roll his eyes.

Quinn leans over to bump his shoulder into Jack’s, shaking his head, unimpressed with his joke.

“Wait,” Luke starts, causing everyone to look up at him. “Are we just not going to address the fact that Quinn randomly showed up to the game tonight?”

“Yeah, how did you get here. Shouldn’t you be in Vancouver right now?” Jack adds, looking over at his older brother suspiciously.

Quinn looks over to you, causing the other two Hughes to shift their gaze your way.

“Surprise?” you say as a question, not knowing what to do with all the eyes in the room on you.

“You did this?” You look over at Luke, nearly eye level with him, even though he’s laying on the table beside you.

“Well, I know you’ve been struggling with adjusting to life here lately, and you were feeling pretty homesick, so I figured it would be nice for you to have both of your brothers in Jersey for a night or two,” you shrug your shoulders, not seeing the big deal with your actions.

“Tried to get your parents here, too, but they couldn’t leave work right now. They sent their love and apologies, though. Promised me they’d be at a game as soon as they could,” you added, wishing you could’ve had all the Hughes here tonight.

“I….I don’t know what to say,” Luke looks at you, so much affection in his eyes it makes you squirm.

“Well, a thank you would be a nice start,” you joke.

“Thank you. I love you. So much. If I could lean over to kiss you right now I would,” Luke brings your hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of your hand clasped in his.

“Please, for the love of god, don’t make me witness anything else painful tonight,” Jack interrupts the moment, earning a slap to the back of the head from Quinn.

“Don’t you have a game to go finish, jackass?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Jack jumps, forgetting about the last period that’s about to start. “See you at home, Moose, Q. You, too, Y/N. Assume you’re staying over to help take care of the patient, yeah?” He nods his head towards the injured one in the room.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Be safe, Jack. Good luck,” you wave as he turns to leave.

“I’ll go pull the car around, be back in a few to help you get this ole’ goon out of here,” Quinn announces before leaving you and Luke alone once more.

“So, you’re really going to stay over? Play nurse for me?” Luke asks, looking at you with puppy dog eyes, batting his eyelashes.

“Of course I’m staying over. I can’t trust Jack to make sure you’re not up and around doing something stupid when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“So, if you’re going to play nurse, does this mean we can stop on the way home and get you one of those sexy nurse outfits?” Luke asks, eyes hopeful.

“Maybe they should’ve just left you out there unconscious on the ice, you were less annoying that way,” you fire back, smiling at the laugh Luke let out, thanking your lucky stars your boy is okay.

[gogobootz1]

At War

Luke Castellan x Reader [fem!daughter of Apollo]

Summary: There's nothing like some friendly competition, but when planning rival parties, you and Luke are a little less than friendly.

Word count: 2k

Every year, there came a time for the retreats- a chance for children of the gods to bond and have some special fun. One big retreat seemed pointless, so camp faculty allowed two. The two retreats accidentally split the boys and girls, and naturally, they turned into an (unofficial) competition. As one of the oldest and most experienced campers- you’d been volunteering to champion a retreat for years. Traditionally, you’ve hosted a slumber party equipped with PJs, dancing, games, movies, braid trains, nail polish, and basically anything anyone could want. You also, of course, have the best food. Each year, it’s been a hit, and it’s only gotten better with time. 

The only problem is that you have tough competition. The day after the retreats, you always hear about what happened at the other one. Paintball, camping, fishing, mad romps through the wood, scary stories- barbecue. Everyone loved it. And every year, you’ve had to quietly conceal your anger and jealousy. It pains you to admit that Luke sure can throw a party (maybe even better than you can). But this year, you are more determined than ever to outdo him. 

The two of you have long been in competition, and things have only escalated. As hilarious as Mr. D found both your antics last year, Chiron was extremely unhappy about the fact the two of you had exceeded the budget by miles. He’d told you both to reign it in this year or no more retreats. When he felt that didn’t sufficiently move you, he threatened to let other people plan them. You both caved and vowed to stick to the budget this year. 

You’re always a little frantic the day of, and today is no different. To your chagrin, Luke is cool as a cucumber. It pisses you off to no end. 

“Nervous?” A smug voice voice asks from behind your back. You drop the spoon you were using to push mashed potatoes around your plate. 

You turn slowly on the bench, “Why should I be?"

“Usually, you’re pulling out your hair before the retreats,” he says skeptically, “perfectionism taking its toll.”

“Yeah? Well, my perfectionism makes my parties perfect,” you flaunt. The few sisters that can stand to be around you when you’re stressed roll their eyes. It’s clear to them this is escalating. 

“What about when Susie vomited in your bouncy house last year?” He taunts, and you glare at him. That girl should not have been jumping after four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and two Redbulls- it was hardly your fault. 

“How about when Aidan got a concussion after falling off the mechanical bull?” You snap back. 

You don’t notice Luke’s shadow until he pipes in, “Are these people okay?” 

“They signed waivers!” You say at the same time, and the new Poseidon kid takes a defensive step back. You send Luke a glare when you realize you spoke in sync. He huffs before smirking at you. 

“Good luck with your sleepover,” he mocks, “You’re gonna need it.” Before you can reply, he marches away, protégée in tow. 

“Eat shit!” You call out after him. 

“That was weak, girl,” one of your sisters says.  

“Shut up, I know,” you shake your head at her, “now come help me set up.” You drag her up by her elbow to make your sacrifices, then get to work. 

Five hours later, the main hall looks great. Your disco ball is glimmering, the mini photo booth is equipped with feather boas and pink cowboy hats, the food is all laid out, and the stage you bribed some Hephaestus kids to build looks great. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, pleased at your surroundings. 

“Fucking finally!” Your sister throws her hands up and walks away. You’ve very likely driven most of your half-siblings insane today. 

“Thanks for your help!” You call after her, and as she goes, you spot some prying eyes through the window. Percy, you think his name is, looks afraid now that you’ve caught him peering in through the window. In a few swift moves, you leave the room and block his exit from the patio. 

“Can I help you?” You ask suspiciously. 

“Just admiring your excellent disco theme,” he says, putting an ultra-sweet smile on his face. As charming as the boy is, you take your retreat very seriously and feel a deep-seated urge to protect it from potential sabotage. 

“Mhmmm,” you nod, “and you wouldn’t happen to be reporting back to anyone about what you’ve seen?” 

“Whaaaaaat?” Percy asks, awkwardly chuckling. 

Your shoulders drop, of course, Luke would stoop to employing spies. You dig into your pocket and pull out a ten-dollar bill, “I’ll give you this if you act as a double agent.” 

He eyes your money suspiciously, “Do you really think I can be bought?” 

You roll your eyes and pull out another bill, “How’s twenty?” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he grabs both bills from your hand and shakes it. Percy happily walks past you, shoving his new earnings into his pocket. 

You grin, “Make sure he hears all about how awesome my party is!”

“I’m on it, boss,” he calls over his shoulder. After a short walk, he’s back to the boathouse lounge where Luke has been waiting for his report. 

“Well?” The older boy asks him, jumping up from his spot on the couch. 

Percy shakes his head solemnly, “Bad news, boss.” 

“What?!” He asks, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me she went over budget. She didn't get another mariachi band, did she?” Percy shakes his head and files this new information away. With what he’s been hearing about the last few retreats, he’s almost sad to have missed them. 

“No, but it does look super cool,” he nods, and it really wasn’t a lie- he saw a chocolate fountain on that snack table. 

“Damn,” Luke’s face twitches in annoyance. 

“But your party will be great too, I’m sure,” he smiles, nodding reassuringly. 

“Of course, it will,” he says defensively, “make sure you check back in over there from time to time. I want to know how it’s progressing.” 

“Sure,” Percy nods, but his concern at the competitiveness underlying this event grows. He wonders just how bad this will get tonight. But check back in he does, and he won’t deny he enjoys himself at the sleepover. Every time he visits, you give him a new sparkly mocktail, and the Aphrodite girls give him a new feather boa. At one point, he’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and eating some cake. He was very impressed when M&Ms fell out of the middle as you cut it. Apparently, it’s also one of your newest sisters’ birthdays- he’s heard whisperings of some big special present for her yet to come. 

Each time Percy returns to the other retreat, he can see Luke get a little more tense. The fact that he’s exaggerating doesn’t help either. When he tells the older boy that you have an ice sculpture spitting Dr. Pepper, he thinks he sees steam pour from Luke’s ears. It’s not like people aren’t enjoying his party, but Percy can that Luke wants to one-up you and feels like he’s falling short. 

“And I’ve heard she has a special surprise in store for Sophie since it’s her birthday. Apparently, she’s the newest addition to their cabin, so she wants to do something special,” Percy nods at him, eating a taco he had brought back from your party. Luke cuts him off by grabbing the taco from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. “Hey!” He protests when Luke puts it right in the trash. 

“When is this surprise?” He asks the twelve-year-old. 

“The Aphrodite girls told me I should be back in like twenty minutes so I wouldn’t miss it,” Percy tells him. 

“And when was that?” 

“Like twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs, and Luke just stares at him. “Ohhhhh,” he says when he realizes how long it’s been. 

“Come on,” Luke shakes his head and starts out the door, Percy in tow. They can hear the surprise before they see it, an ABBA song blasting out of the building. Only, they don’t realize who's performing it until they walk in. Along with two of your musically-inclined Apollo sisters, you’re dressed in bell bottoms and sleeves. And you look like you’re having the time of your life- until you spot them, that is. 

“Look, look, look, look,” you pull the microphone away to mutter to Tanya. Her shock is visible, but you both keep performing anyway. The crowd goes wild at the end, and Sophie runs up on stage to give you a big hug. You let Tanya take over host duties and make your way through the crowd to the party crasher. 

“That was,” Luke starts, but you are not keen to hear whatever he has to say about your outfit, or your performance, or your party. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

His expression instantly sours, “I wanted some Dr. Pepper from your ice sculpture, where is it?” 

“What are you talking about?” You’re highly confused until Percy gives you the cut-it-out motion from behind Luke’s back. “We put it back in the freezer,” you say, and Percy gives you the thumbs up. No matter what you think of him, Luke’s not an idiot. He turns around in time to spot Percy’s gestures. 

“Wait a second, are you two colluding?” He looks between the two of you in shock. 

“You were colluding with him first,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “You really earned that twenty dollars, by the way,” you compliment the kid, and he gives you a pleased nod. 

“Dude,” Luke turns toward Percy, betrayed. 

“She outbid you,” he shrugs. “Hey, what if you guys just went to each other’s parties?” 

You both eye the boy suspiciously, “Why would we do that?” You ask him, and Luke nods in agreement.

“Well, you’re both so desperate to know about the other’s party, so why don’t you just experience it for yourselves?” Percy asks, and when he feels you aren’t sufficiently moved by it, he tries again. “If you attend both parties, you can decide who wins.” 

“Good enough for me,” Luke wanders off into your party.

“Yeah, okay,” you head for the door. 

“Hopeless,” Percy mumbles, shaking his head. 

An hour later, you and Luke meet in the middle of your respective parties. You stare at each other for a minute before you admit in sync, “I had fun.” 

“We have to stop doing that,” you shake your head. 

“Agreed.” 

You’re both silent again for a minute. “The slip and slide was a good idea,” you say reluctantly, soap still in your hair, “low budget but lots of fun. Tubing was good too. And the campfire.” You had changed out of the disco attire and into shorts and a T-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“Did you try-“

“Chris can really grill,” you nod. After some hesitance, you finally choke out a confession, “I am very displeased to call you the winner.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. 

“What?”

“You totally won,” he shrugs, “the disco was killer.” You only now realize he changed into pajamas. 

“You actually embraced the sleepover?” 

He flicks some grass off your shoulder, “You gave my party a fair shot.” That’s true, and you nod, looking away for a second. “The chocolate fountain was a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And I was trying to tell you earlier, but your performance was really cool,” he admits. 

“Yeah?” A genuine grin grows on your face at this. Most everyone in the Apollo cabin loves music, but some of your half-siblings are more keen to perform than you. Hearing this, and from him especially, means a lot. 

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling now too. “You’re the winner here.” 

“Let’s call it a draw?” You offer, and he nods. 

“What if we just worked together and planned one party next year?” He asked, and you pretend to consider it for a moment. 

“That could be cool,” you nod, “imagine what we could do with the combined budget.” 

He grins and scrunches his nose, “How about we enjoy this year’s party until then?”

“We could do that,” you nod, “where to?”

He swiftly wraps an arm over your shoulder and starts guiding you back to your party, “Let’s boogie.” You laugh, and he thinks it’s a sound he could get used to. 

-----------------------------------------

I've been awake for too long so idk if this is coherent but I had fun <3

[surftrips]

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

DISTRACTION — CHAPTER 03

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary y/n's guitar practicing is interrupted several times.

author's note slowly introducing more of the social media aus into these fics! you can view all of the characters’ twitter accounts here.

→ installment of this au read for context

The weather outside was beautiful. Kids were strewn out around camp, some were by the lake while others found shade in the armory or stables. You, however, were in your cabin all alone. You knew that this was one of the few times it would be empty, so you snuck away from archery to practice your other instrument– your guitar. 

You began strumming the first few notes to a song you had been working on. Quietly singing the lyrics to yourself, you were reminded of a time before camp.

It was back when you were still with him. You recall how your back leaned against his as he helped move your fingers to the correct strings, how he guided your hands to the right positions, he was always so patient with you. But that had all come crashing down when the monsters in your head became real, too real for him to deal with. 

Anyway, that was a long time ago now. You went back to strumming your guitar and tried to push the memory away, but you couldn’t. You hated that he still occupied your mind, no matter how hard you tried to move on. 

You thought that coming here would help, and it did for a while. Other boys became distractions and temporary fixes, but then there was Luke, who confused and terrified you.

When Annabeth and Clarisse brought him up at your sleepover the other night, you felt the need to hide. The bravest girl in camp, and you couldn’t face your own feelings. It made you feel weak, and you hated that.

Realizing that you got distracted once again, you resumed singing for a third time. 

It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of keys dropping followed by“shit.” You looked up from where you were sitting cross-legged in bed to see who it was.

“Hello?” you called out.

A bashful curly-haired boy peeked his head into your door. You frowned. 

“Hey Y/N, sorry for interrupting you,” Percy said, slowly. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”

“Y-yes,” the boy stammered. “But Luke needed me to get something from Hermes cabin for him.”

“You do realize this is Ares, right?” 

“Right, I just-” 

“Just…?” You knew you were being a little rude to the boy, but it had been a while since you messed with the campers. You couldn’t have them thinking you went soft all of a sudden. 

“Sorry, I was just walking by and I heard someone singing and I figured it must be you, so I just stopped for a second to listen.”

“Okay, stalker.” 

“I wasn’t stalking, I swear!”

“Whatever, just get going before Luke gets mad at you too.” 

Not needing you to tell him twice, Percy rushed away. Sighing, you went back to your guitar for the umpteenth time. 

📥 INCOMING MESSAGE FROM: PERCY

You enjoyed about 30 more minutes of peace before you heard a soft knock on your door. Grumbling, you climbed out of bed, ready to scare the camper away. 

“I swear to god-” you started.

“Hey, hey, I come here in peace,” Luke put his hands up defensively. 

“Ironic because you’re actually disturbing my peace. What is it with everyone bothering me today?” 

“Look, I came here to apologize for Percy earlier.”

“You wasted your time because this could have been a text then,” you said. You were usually nicer to Luke than the rest of the campers, but you hadn’t been in a good mood recently, not since the sleepover and not since you started working on this song. 

He must have noticed your change in attitude toward him because he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you said quickly. “And even if it weren’t, I’m not going to bother you with my problems.” 

“You’re not a bother,” he responded sincerely. 

“Well, I’m glad you think that. But us Ares kids, we have to take care of ourselves. I’m used to it.” 

“Just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean it’s the way things should be.” 

“Oh, my bad, Castellan. I didn’t take you for a philosopher.” 

“Alright, whatever. I just came to apologize for Percy, I’ll leave you to your moping.” 

“Hey! I’m not moping!” you said, defensively. 

“It sure does look like it,” he said, scanning the room and landing on the mess of sheets on your bed and the snack bags you had discarded haphazardly on the floor. 

“I’ll have you know I’m actually working on a very special project, so. This is what the room of an artist looks like.” 

“Oh?” he chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, I can show you.” 

“Alright, bet,” he found a spot next to you on your bed and watched as you set up your guitar. 

You strummed the first few verses of your song, hyper-aware of how close the boy next to you was right now. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, and closed your eyes as you slowly allowed yourself to lean into him, softly singing the lyrics. 

When you got to the chorus, you cleared your throat. “Uhm, here is where I’m getting stuck a bit, because everyone keeps barging in here.” 

“Is this the part where you ask me to leave then?”

You stared into his brown eyes. You wondered how anyone’s eyes could look so soft, could hold so much emotion. Did he look at everyone like this? 

“Y/N?” he said, after a moment.

Shit, how long were you staring at him for? And was your mouth open the entire time? 

“Sorry, I thought I saw something in your eye. Probably just a piece of dust,” you laughed nervously. “Uhm, yeah, I think I need another hour or something to finish this song, but I’ll see you at the campfire tonight, yeah?”

If Luke was disappointed, he didn’t look it. “Yeah, of course, I gotta head back to my counselor duties anyway.” 

He saluted you playfully as he turned around to leave, being sure to close the door after him.

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): Too Sweet

3rd chapter

SUMMARY: Being in charge of someone's education was heavier than you thought, but tonight doesn't have to be all about books and notes. PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WK: 4K WARNINGS: bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, cursing A/N: slow slow slow burn Previous chapter

Next chapter

After that encounter in the cafeteria you're left feeling nervous and mad, how could she make fun of you so lightly? Didn't her sister told her you weren't the one giving her booze?

You decide to skip your next lesson and head straight home. Once you're inside the elevator, you look for your phone inside your bag and send a text to Caitlyn asking her what time is she coming over.

The elevator stops at your floor and while you're searching for your keys, you see Caitlyn standing in front of your apartment door, carrying some bags on one hand and the other one typing on her phone.

"I didn't know you were here." you say as you approach her, smiling and looking curiously at her bags.

"I wanted to surprise you but I forgot to bring the spare keys you gave me." she says as you turn the key around and open the door.

Once inside, Caitlyn leaves the bags on the table and takes out the fast food she had bought, preparing everything for both of you to eat lunch together. You get into the bathroom and wash your hands and face, then look into the mirror; you felt like shit, and you could feel your mind spinning a thousand miles a second— guilt was cursing through your veins and you couldn't help but wonder what it was about.

Except you did know.

You grab a towel and dry both your hands and face, feeling like cold water didn't do much to your anxiety so you get out of the bathroom and sit in front of your best friend at the table. Both of you start chatting about your day; she tells you that her boss, Marcus, had been driving her crazy all day long until she finally found those papers he was asking for and then let her off for the day. You told her about all the exams you had to grade and then mentioned that Violet's was in that pile too.

"So you took revenge, huh." she says jokingly and chuckles.

"In my defense, it was a mess anyway and," you feel your stomach tied up in a knot, thinking if it was really okay for you to tell her— no, to do it entirely, "now I have to tutor her, so the universe punished me for it already."

You can't decipher what her expression means while she's looking at you but she keeps chewing on her food and laughes lightly. The awkwardness doesn't leave your body and you start thinking you may be going insane, why did you think so much of it? It was just tutoring.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's smarter than she gives on."

What was supposed to make you feel relieved just had the opposite effect. You didn't know they were that close, Caitlyn never mentioned her before that night and now it felt like she was keeping more from you than she might be telling. She is supposed to be your best friend, why wouldn't she tell you she was seeing someone if they were that close?

Food already eaten, you get off your seat and clean the table, grabbing the remaining leftovers and putting them in the fridge for later. You felt a bit sad, and maybe jealous. There was a part of Caitlyn's life you weren't aware of and, for some reason, now you were afraid to ask.

Working after classes sucked, but what sucked even more was having to look for someone who could cover her at work; it couldn't be just anyone. She wouldn't care if the place belonged to someone else and her life didn't literally depend on it, but "The Last Drop" was hers to take care of now. Well, almost.

"Can't pick you up today, Powder." she says, holding her phone on her ear with one hand and organizing bottles on the shelf with the other. "Come straight home, okay? I don't want you messing around again."

Violet could hear her younger sister complaining on the phone about how controlling she was and what plans she already had that night with her friends. It was always the same argument so she let Powder vent about it while she was rearranging the expensive bottles' shelf, hoping that the old wood would resist the weight and not make her lose thousands of dollars. She needed to replace those shelves.

"Look, Pow-pow," holding her phone between her neck and shoulder, Vi kept on trying to convince her sister, "bring Ekko if you want, I could use his help anyway."

With her little sister convinced, Violet put down the phone on the bar and looked over the place; everything needed to be done and she was already feeling tired, both physically and mentally.

All day she had been going around, signing papers and then attending classes. The only time in the day she could actually relax— or unleash some stress, was in the ring; throwing punches, sweating, analyzing her opponent's movements just to finally bring them down. She felt capable, strong and even good at it.

But this? Going to college, watching over her sister, working and barely sleeping; that was hard. It felt impossible at times.

"You've got a good heart," she remembered her father saying, "don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you."

Those words were like fuel for her, that memory has kept her going for years and it still worked now. She had to bear, just a bit longer.

Violet grabbed her phone again and sent a text to Caitlyn, letting her know that she'd probably be busy the rest of the week because she needed to study. Hard. She got an instant reply, "We'll meet as soon as you can."

Feeling relieved, Vi sighed and continued cleaning and organizing everything at the bar. She was thankful for meeting Caitlyn, it was not long ago and she was already changing her entire life— is this how hope felt? It's been years since she had something to look forward to.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, The Last Drop was ready to be opened but still no one could cover for her. Hearing the keys from the backdoor alerted Violet that her sister was finally home, so she went to greet both Powder and her friend.

"I brought some donuts from work." said Powder, leaving the box on the table. "Although they're dry, that's why I got to bring them."

Violet grabbed one and muttered something about the donuts being dry indeed, but she shrugged it off and ate one anyway. She started her way back to the bar, Ekko following behind her and eating his own dry donut.

"Powder told me about your tutoring lessons," he said as he was chewing, "I can cover for you here, you know."

"I didn't ask."

"I'm offering." he replied as soon as he saw his friend's expression, she was clearly uncomfortable and unexperienced when it came to receiving some extra hands. "C'mon, Vi. I know how the business works and I can handle tough costumers."

Violet had to think about it for a bit; it's true that he knew how the bar worked and handling drunken men wouldn't be a problem for him— if anything, God help the idiot who dared to mess with him, but she had never left anyone to run the place without supervision, not even her sister. However, she didn't really have any other option, she couldn't afford to close for even one night. Those debts wouldn't pay themselves.

"Be puntual, no drinking while working and no letting Powder steal any booze, got it?"

"Got it."

She gave him a nod and finished her donut, then went to the back to let Powder know that she was going to be busy the rest of the night. After a short speech about being responsible, helping Ekko and making her swear that if anything came up she would call her immediately, Violet made her way upstairs and into the apartment.

It was strange having some free time on her hands, she was used to running around and work all night until late, but she figured it was a well deserved break; although she was worried about leaving Ekko and Powder in charge of the place.

"She's ready," Violet thought to herself, it was about time to give her sister more credit. She deserved it, after all; Powder was way smarter than most people, only lacking in concentration but that's normal for a teenager, and Vi wouldn't want her little sister feeling like she had to behave like an adult so soon.

Headed towards the bathroom, Violet decided she could use a hot shower and got inside the bathtub, filled it up with water and added her sister's bath salts into it. She had never tried them, but Powder was always telling her about how relaxed she would feel after if she tried them, so she did. And maybe it was because she was completely drained of energy, but it felt like they were working.

She could feel her body relaxing, her shoulders no longer tense and her eyes blinking heavily— these salts were like magic.

Once she finished cleaning and drying her body, she walked into her bedroom and chose some comfortable pants and a big sized T-shirt, then some bandages for her knuckles; today's training had been more intense than usual and she had forgotten to clean her wounds and covering them.

Back into the living room, Violet turned on the TV and laid down on the couch. This was the whole day off experience, now she just had to wait for her new tutor to text her so she could let her in.

Except, she didn't ask nor she gave her number, but there was no time to think about that as her eyes started closing on their own until she fell profoundly asleep.

The sun was already going down and Caitlyn had already left your place, wishing you good luck and telling you to let her know once you were back safe and sound. After taking a shower, you go to your room and decide what to wear; you weren't sure if you were supposed to dress comfortable or as if you were going out— it was a bar, after all. You remember Violet saying she would close the place so you could study at peace and decide to wear some casual but cute clothes, then grab your bag and turn off all the lights. Once you're out of your apartment, you grab your phone and attempt to send her a text, but she never gave you her number, and you didn't gave her yours. You shrug it off and think that she must surely remember you were going over and call the elevator.

You decide you would walk to the bar instead of calling a cab, it was a beautiful night and you were still going to arrive earlier than expected, hoping the walk would calm your nerves even a little. It was the first time you had to tutor someone, you were used to grading exams and doing other academic work but being in charge of someone's education felt heavier than that, specially when you were asked to do it by Viktor; he was more than a professor to you, you looked up to him and you wanted to be as smart and dedicated as he was. It was clear you didn't want to let him down, that's the only reason you accepted in the first place.

The Last Drop was near now and you could see all the lightning coming out from the inside, strong neon colorful lights illuminating even its surroundings outside, the big shiny sign spelling its name and announcing the beggining of your night with your new student. Sighing heavily, you open the door and let the loud music penetrate your ears, you could smell the scent of cigars and sweat, people sitting in different tables chatting and drinking. You were confused now, this seemed far from being closed and you couldn't see Violet anywhere. Walking over to the bar counter, you can see the barman working hard as he was preparing two drinks simultaneously while receiving more orders from group of girls who were clearly going to keep him busy.

"Excuse me—" you say lifting up your finger in an attempt to get his attention, but he doesn't even flinch. "Excuse me!" you yell a bit louder and he turns around to look at you.

"Hey, what are you having?" he asks now looking at you.

"I'm looking for Violet. She works here, right?"

"Oh, you must be her tutor." he says while smiling, you give him a small nod. "That door back there," you follow his finger pointing to an old wooden door, "go upstairs and knock on your left."

Thanking him, you walk over to the door he pointed and read its sign "Personal Only", feeling a bit odd about crossing a forbidden door, you twist the knob and walk upstairs; it was a small place, you could feel the humidity on your skin and the lightbulb over your head twinkling like begging to be retired, the stairs were squeaking under your steps until you were finally facing the left door the barman had mentioned. You knock on it twice and wait, although a few minutes pass by and no one answers, so you knock three times and yell Violet's name. Still no answer. You hear some steps coming from the stairs and turn your head around.

"No answer?" moving her blue haired braids behind her shoulders, she shoves her hand inside her pockets and takes out a key. You greet her as she opens the door and lets you in first, chuckling for no apparent reason to you and leaves her keys on the table. You leave your bag on the same spot, feeling a bit uncomfortable being at someone else's house, someone you don't know that didn't even open the door for you. Maybe she forgot you were coming. "Vi, wake up!" you heard Jinx yelling.

Peaking to where the yelling came from, you see Violet laying on the couch with one leg spreaded and her feet touching the floor. She shuffles while her sister keeps yelling at her and then opens her eyes, looks at Jinx and then at you. Her eyes open wide and she sits straight on the couch, rubbing her eyes and murmurring, "I fell asleep."

"Yeah, no shit." her sister answers while she opens the fridge and takes out a bottle. "I'll be downstairs, bye." she opens the door and leaves both of you alone.

"Sorry, I wasn't planning on sleeping," she says now looking at you.

"Well, we should begin." you sit down at the table and watch her sitting in front of you. She handles you a glass of water and you softly thank her, taking a sip and feeling your throat was more drier than you noticed, your hands were shaking as you grabbed everything you brought from your bag; some books, your own notes and her failed exam.

"Cait said you're good at this," she says, "so please enlighten me." the smirk she gives you makes you both furious and nervous, you couldn't figure if she was really taking this seriously.

You decide to be the bigger person and ignore all her snarky comments so the lesson could begin. To your surprise, she took in everything you told her and she was a quick learner as well; listening carefully to your explanations and even taking her own notes, asking questions about the book and what she lacked in the exam. You tell her she should focus more on certain chapters and the logical part of the subject because, even though Viktor appreciated debates on his classes, his exams put emphasis on the scientific part and not so much on the student's interpretations.

As you continue the lesson, you start to think Caitlyn was right— Violet was way smarter than you thought.

Both of you decide to take a little break from studying and she brings snacks, putting the books and notes aside, she asks, "So how do you know Cait?"

"We've been friends since highschool, " you answer, "she was running some sort of campaign so each class could vote for a delegate or something. She convinced me to sign and we're inseparable since then." Violet laughs at that and makes you smile.

"Sounds like her." Curiosity got the best out of you and you ask her the same question. "Well, we—" someone opens the door, it was the barman. He starts telling Violet he needed her help with a drunk costumer, saying he was getting violent and couldn't calm him down. "Be right back." she says and leaves with him.

You sit there eating chips and waiting for her to be back, but then half an hour passed and you were feeling like a soldier's wife. Worry grows in the back of your head, what if something happened to her? Violet looked strong but that drunk violent customer could be stronger, and she didn't seem like the type of girl to walk out of a fight.

Unable to deal with your own head, you get off your seat and walk to the door. Just when you were about to twist its knob, the door suddenly slides wide open, startling you. It was Violet, standing in front of you, a bit sweaty but generally unharmed; she was so close to you, the air leaving out of her mouth when she apologized for taking so long felt like a fresh breeze against your face and you couldn't stop starring at her little scar on her upper lip. You wonder how she got that one and if she had any other somewhere on her body.

Before you could shake that thought off, you realised she might have noticed your stare because she licked her lip, just where the scar was, and smirked. Blood rushing to your cheeks, you turn your gaze somewhere else and say, "It's okay, I was just worried..."

"Come." she says and starts walking downstairs. You follow her steps into the bar, still feeling embarrassed, and at the end of the stairs you notice the overwhelming silence compared to the loudness of music when you first arrived. The bar was now closed and empty, just the two of you there. She goes behind the counter and grabs a bottle of whisky, pouring it into two glasses while you walk around to take a better look at the place. Warm lighting was on now that the neon lights were off, beautifully illuminating the decorated walls; pictures with different people on it hanged on them, most had a very muscular and tough looking man smiling with someone— you couldn't recognize anyone, but you could tell they were close to each other and that moment was definitely worth immortalizing on a frame. There were also drawings clearly made by a child, full of colours and love and joy, and you see one with two girls in it; a pink haired one with boxing gloves on her hands, fighting some sort of wolf while the blue haired one was cheering on her, a little toy monkey by her side. It made you smile.

"Powder made them." Violet says behind you, scaring you off a bit. She approaches you and hands you a drink, standing beside you now.

"Is it Jinx or Powder?" you ask sipping a bit of your whisky, you can feel it burning your throat and your nose scrunches making Violet chuckle.

"Powder, but everyone calls her Jinx." she answers, "Stupid nickname."

You hummed and watched her going behind the bar counter again, so you decide to sit in one of those fancy tall seats in front of her. You put your glass down and she refills it then her own.

"What happened to the violent costumer?" you ask.

"Kicked his ass and sent him home." she sips her whisky like it's juice, meanwhile you're already feeling dizzy. Strong liquor shouldn't be near you but you couldn't refuse when she refilled your glass again. You had to admit, her presence was strong; she was someone you couldn't ignore if she walked into a room, it's like her confidence drawn you in, clouding your senses and making you want more. It didn't exactly help that she was hot as hell. Still, you couldn't get out of your head the fact that the night you met her, she had been locked up in the bathroom with your best friend.

Both of you keep drinking and chatting, your curiosity growing stronger as you ask her if she runs this place all on her own, feeling pity when she answers, "Yes, been on it since my dad died."

Doubting a little but feeling the booze cancelling your inhibitions, you ask her, "What happened to him?"

"He got sick, " her expression changes, her jaw clenches and she takes another long sip at her glass, you watch the liquor going down her throat and then she speaks again, "it was a few years ago, Powder was still a child."

"And you?" you could feel your stomach tied up in a knot.

"Someone had to take care of things." she says while looking to the wall filled with pictures and drawings, her face seemed calmed like she was already used to this kind of life but you couldn't stop the sadness. "When he was in bed, he used to do these animal-like groans because of the pain, " surprisingly she smiles at that, "Powder used to say he sounded like a wolf."

You couldn't take it anymore and started sobbing, Violet looked at you surprised and then laughed, which made you feel embarrassed.

"Don't laugh, I'm already drunk." you tell her, rubbing your eyes and looking at her with your eyes furrowed.

She walks out from behind the counter and keeps laughing, standing beside you and helping you off your seat, she says, "Can't take strong booze, cupcake?"

That dumb nickname made your face go on fire, it didn't help that she was grabbing your waist to help you keep your balance and you could smell her scent, a mix of whisky and perfume, the warmth of her body next to yours as she was guiding you upstairs again.

"You'd know that, " you tell her, trying so hard to put one feet in front of the other, "you took a pic of it."

Violet opens the door to her place and helps you inside, she walks you to her bedroom and watches you sitting down on her bed. She leaves you there and you take a look at the room, it was tidy and well organized; her night stand had a frame of Powder, herself and their father. She comes back with a cup of coffee and hands it to you, looking at you expectantly. You take a sip of the coffee and make a face of disgust.

"I don't drink coffee."

"Yeah, I can tell." you answer her, still drinking that disgusting liquid she dares to call coffee. You can feel her gaze burning on you, the concern in her eyes even if she was making fun of you, it made your heart soften.

"Stay here tonight, I'll sleep on the couch." she says and puts her hand on your shoulder.

You inhale heavily, trying to ignore the sensation of her touch, even something as small as a reassuring hand is clouding your senses now. It wasn't just the booze anymore.

"Can't you sleep in your sister's room?" you ask her, trying to put your mind somewhere else.

"That's a rat nest," she chuckles and crunches her nose, "sleeping outside is safer." You hand her the empty cup and lay down, covering your legs with the sheets, her scent was impregnated in the pillow. Violet was still looking at you, her face inexpressive.

"I never gave your sister booze, " you say and she looks at you confused, "the other night, at the party, it wasn't me."

"I know," she closes her eyes and sighs, "that's just Powder testing my patience."

"An apology would be good," you say jokingly and she chuckles.

"You know what?" she smirks and raises one eyebrow, "If your tutoring is that good and I pass my exams, I'll take it down." You laugh and tell her that you shouldn't be punished for her stupidity, so she pretends to be offended and punches you softly. She watches you blinking heavily and stands up, turning the lights off and stopping at the door frame, "Good night, cupcake."

Humming in response, you close your eyes and let sleep take over you, ignoring the vibrations coming from your phone.

TAGS: @pokiiks